


Custom Concerns

by Cowboy Dan (glitchkillgasm), glitchkillgasm



Category: Bandom, Modest Mouse (Band), The White Stripes
Genre: Bratting, Collars, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Date Rape, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drug-Induced Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, Maids, Neko Boy Isaac, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Racism, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Spanking, Sugar Daddy Jack, That should cover it, You heard that correctly, against aforementioned kitty Isaac, dub con, probably more accurately tagged as, things go downhill pretty quickly for kitty Isaac, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-04 06:57:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4128963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitchkillgasm/pseuds/Cowboy%20Dan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitchkillgasm/pseuds/glitchkillgasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in an Alternate Universe where genes have mixed between certain animals and humans due to fucking science doing weirder shit than this, so shhhh don't question it. These occurrences are very rare, but with these new breeds of somewhat human beings coming into the world, there is hate and intolerance. They have no rights, and not very many people want for them to exist, so it isn't uncommon for them to be sell them into slavery and even be euthenized if they can't find owners to care for them. Isaac was born one of these select few, having cat ears and an unmistakable tail.  Not willing to give up his freedom or his aspirations to be a musician, he hides them and has taken on an identity that isn't plastered with the fact that he was born not fully human. </p><p>Jack is just as he is in present times - The founder of Third Man Records, a renowned performer and a millionaire. Scouting out the shitty bars for talent, he stumbles upon the shy and somewhat reserved frontman of the band Modest Mouse and takes a liking to him. Offering him a record deal, he gives him the stipulation and he has to sleep with him to get what he wants. The Rest will be planned out later. Let's read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My mom](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+mom).



It's difficult to find talent in a town where the only worthwhile thing that they've created is lavish buildings to buy products mass-produced by the Chinese, it's entirely fueled by consumers and their need to fill the endless void that looms over their heads. They're sheep, following the flock and doing exactly what they're told, so much so that it makes it all the more enticing when he sees somebody that isn't. Jack watches the stage through the jagged mouth of a crystal glass, he's drinking down whiskey like it's ice water, coating his throat with a burn that subsides almost as quickly as it comes on. He's drunk enough to be as confident as he should be, given his position in life, but not too far gone to do anything he'd regret. The kid shouting into the microphone doesn't look like he's a day over the age of consent, but that twists around in his guts and burns far more intensely than the whiskey could ever hope to. There is anger behind his lyrics, but it's shrouded by the realization that it's caused by something deeper -- Something hidden and sacred, a formula that can't be written down or replicated, it comes from experience. He's got a grey beanie on as he strums at his guitar, keeps his eyes towards the floor and his pedals, seems like he doesn't have the courage to look out at the audience, or even acknowledge them at all. After each track, there is applause from the crowd, but he doesn't focus on it, merely jumping into the next before it can die down fully. He isn't there to please, he's there for his own purposes.

It reminds him of how he used to be back in the nineties, all for roughing it for the sake of just making music that he enjoyed personally, but part of that Jack doesn't exist anymore. He's true to himself to an extent, but money is also a factor in his life currently and he isn't willing to take extreme risks any longer when it comes to his profession. There is a lingering fear that he'll create his own downfall by getting cocky and believing that his fans will follow him to the ends of the Earth, when that isn't the least bit true. People are fickle, they change their minds with the times, and he got lucky once with the stripes, so he reckons that it isn't a safe bet to bet all of his money on himself. So, he spends his Thursday nights in clubs, sipping on special cocktails and expensive liquor, dressed to impress in his finest suits, picking and choosing who is worthy of his time. This kid is worth his time, and he figures that he could make a pretty penny on his looks alone, combined with the angst that radiates off of him and into the static of his cheap pawn shop amps.

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When all of the words have been said, when the last chord is struck and the night is converted from auditory to visuals and booze, Isaac hops down from the edge of the stage, lithe fingers wrapped around the neck of his instrument. People are going to set out for thrills any moment now, stumble to their cars and risk getting DUIs, take girls home to have unprotected sex, but Jack is planted at the bar despite the fact that he can be just as irresponsible as the best of them. He's got the money to bail himself out of any ditch that he can dig, but there is something about the kid that makes him want to figure out what his story is.

At the bar, he hardly expects for him to take a seat beside him, and it makes him raise an eyebrow when he does because of how obviously young he is. Pulling out his wallet and showing the bartender a form of identification, he orders himself a few shots of the affordable stuff, the kind of shots that you would order if you were living off of a minimum wage dead- end job. Glancing from the man that supplies the obvious minor with alcohol to the substance in question, Jack wonders when he lost his taste for it as he pulls his cigarette case out of his jacket pocket and plucks one of the sticks from inside. He watches as the kid shoots them to the back of his throat and swallows them down, grimacing as he does, before bringing the glasses down onto the counter with a satisfying clink.

Placing the cigarette between his lips and lighting the end of it with a match, he inhales deeply before pulling it away, resting it comfortably between his index and middle fingers until the next time that he feels so inclined. It's obvious that he's looking him over behind a mild cloud of smoke that wafts from the end of his cigarette and into the air above their heads.

Exhaling, he speaks with it, casual and smooth, "If you're going to flaunt a fake I.D. you might as well invest in something from the top shelf." He told him, the corner of his mouth curling into a playful hint of a smile. It was the beginnings of a chase of sorts, a dance that would either end in disappointment or conquest, and the biggest thrill was from the act itself, the risk.

The younger man takes a look at him from the corner of his eye and slams back the last of the series before he turns himself to face him, looking as if he's stand-offish towards the idea. His expression softens considerably when he takes in his image as a whole, sizes him up and realizes that he doesn't look like too much of a creep, "That mean you wanna get me drunk er somethin'?" He asks, finger absently dancing along the rim of the shotglass. He's had married guys try to pick him up at the bar several times in the past, so he isn't naive enough to believe that isn't what's occurring. Something about a mid-life crisis draws older men to him, as if they can smell the youth on him.

"You catch on quickly." Jack says, a smirk on his face that implies so much but gives entirely too little away as he motions the bartender over, orders something that he can't quite make out, but figures that it's as good a choice as any. He eyes the older man curiously as he continues speaking, "I should be upfront with you," And Isaac prepares to be given the speech about how his wife got fat over the holiday season, and he has three kids and blah blah blah, but it never comes, "I'm the founder of an independent record label, and I have to admit that I was impressed by your performance. I'm considering signing you, if you aren't already under contract." He concludes.

The younger man is taken back, that's for sure, given the way that his eyes widen slightly and it appears as if he has to catch himself from acting too desperate, "Yeah, I'm.. Not under a contract with anybody, so.." He realizes that he ended it openly, "So, that's perfect for the both of us.. But what's the catch?"

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The catch comes like a fishing hook, snags onto his cheek and keeps him where Jack wants him, and the worst part is that he hadn't even seen it coming. He's not sure when it had happened, but there had been something that must have been placed into his drink while he was away, something to make him complacent and weak. They were in the back of a limousine, from what Isaac was able to gather while in his altered state of mind, the flashings of the city lights had trails of fire behind them, and he found himself focusing on them rather than the warm body that was too close to his side. He could tell that he was speaking to him, but his voice was far away and echoed, making it difficult to make any actual sense of it.

His hands are roaming over his body, and he has to admit that it feels great, the way that he confidently undoes his pants and pushes his underwear down to expose him fully. The tone in his voice hints that he's pleased with himself, what he's doing and what he's gained from his actions, it's enough to make him want to be disgusted. Isaac isn't entirely sure if the way that his body is reacting is normal, or if it's what Jack had slipped him.

It's a substance that is oddly familiar, but it's not as simple as him putting his finger on it, there are a thousand variants to each and he has no hope in figuring it out. Plus, there is no logic in dwelling on /what/ he's been put under the influence of, but the /why/ is the more important factor. Had everything that Jack said to him -- If that actually was his name -- Been a lie?

Fingertips brush over the light hair above the base of Isaac's cock and he's more than embarrassed when he lets out a whimper, closes his eyes and turns his head to hide his face into Jack's shoulder. The worst part of it is that he knows he's being obvious, knows that Jack can tell that nobody has touched him like this /at all/ by the way that he gets so flustered by even the slightest of actions. At least there is the justification behind his virginity, that he isn't going to simply get undressed and out himself as subhuman with just anybody, and in a span of seventeen years he just hasn't found the right person. It helps in keeping him from beating himself up too severely, but the fact that he knows Jack will find out unless he does something, anything, looms over his conscience.

Running a calloused hand along Isaac's pale hip, he travels around his side, over silky flesh until it reaches a peculiar texture. Before he can get to the curve of his ass, he pauses, confused and silent as ever. The younger man freezes in his place, feeling his pulse go still in his throat for several minutes although he's aware it must only be a couple of seconds. Jack curls and runs his fingers through the soft fur that connects his tail to his lower back before he dares to grip at it, not too roughly, but firmly, stroking it lightly as one might an admired pet. If he hadn't been mortified by the way that he keened at his touch before, the sound that comes from his is practically a purr now, and he can feel his face burning in response to his animal instincts. Isaac holds onto Jack's forearm, as if that's going to do something, as if it'll get him to stop and forget what he saw, but it seems to turn him on ever more. Pulling the beanie off of the young vocalist's head, he can hear the muffled and distant chuckle from his chest as he no doubt is pleased with the combination, the confirmation of what he is and the secret that he had tried so hard to preserve.

Fucking bastard uses his thumb and index finger to rub at his ear, pinching just a bit roughly at times to hear him mewl in reply, and Isaac finds himself throwing away all inhibition at that. He's got nothing left to lose, he knows everything. He isn't all there cognitively, but he finds a way to bring his attention to Jack's zipper as he toys with his most sensitive parts, enjoying the image of just watching him tick. The way that he can just barely make out "good kitty" from his throaty voice makes him sincerely consider if his kind was brought into the world to serve, to be good pets for men like Jack, obedient without any true goals but to please.

There's no way that it's coming from the rational part of his brain, he knows that, but he doesn't have the energy to fight it, instead using all of his strength to tug at his zipper and fumble with the button of his pants. The tone in the older man's voice is patronizing, humiliating, and filthy. It strangely makes Isaac's head swim even more intensely, his fist moving up and down his cock, working him to a full hardness. A noise of approval comes from him, his legs moving wider apart to give him the room that he needs, a strong hand still tweaking at his ear, interchanging when he feels the need, dark eyes fixed on how the young man's body writhes when he hits the perfect spot.

"That's right, take care of daddy," It rolls off of his tongue so smoothly that it makes Isaac melt a little bit, an experience that he had previously not had, and even if the circumstances were less than favorable, he had to admit that it was enticing. Continuing, he's right in his ear, soft yet intense, whispering, "I'll be sure to fuck you just like you need, baby." He finishes, and Isaac is sure that Satan's going to rise up and drag him down to hell for how fucking hot it is. He moves his hand away from his ear and slides it down his head, finally settling on a section at the back, near the base of his skull so that he can guide him down into his lap.

The lack of fight left in his body is surprising, and Isaac uses that as an excuse for why he goes down so easy, denies how he wraps his lips around Jack's length without any form of hesitation. Fingers tighten in his hair and he might as well be on a leash, feeling the urge to gag when he has to relax his throat to accomodate all of his inches, but he fights it, thanking anybody that's listening that he doesn't. If he's going to act like a slut, he might as well play the part accurately.

"Jesus--" Jack tips his head back at the way that Isaac lingers at the base of his cock, like he's trying to impress, tongue lightly moving on the underside when he pulls back up until the head is the only part left in his mouth. A search for approval comes from his light green eyes as he focuses on a couple of inches, moving his head up and down slightly, just satisfied with watching Jack enjoy himself from that position. It isn't until the older man takes note of the way that Isaac is expectantly looking up at him that he locks eye contact, an authoritative hand still in place as he sucks him, "You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth." He says it with a genuine tone that makes Isaac's stomach tighten.

After a while of letting him do what he wants, Jack decides to take control once again, pressing down on him to force him down to the base once more, his other hand beginning to roam over his young body. He runs down the curve of his spine and to the fullness of his ass, shoving down the rough material of his jeans just enough to expose him as much as he needs. Raising his hand and bringing it down against the sensitive flesh, he feels a rush at the way that he groans with his cock buried in his throat, sending vibrations through him.

A subtle grin comes over Jack's face when he feels him squirm, "Filthy little whore." comes from him, and it shouldn't turn Isaac on to be degraded like this, not even knowing if there are others in the car, not even knowing what the man's intentions are after this. Chills run down his arched back when Jack slides a long finger over his hole, just rubbing him for the time being, his grip loosening on Isaac's head to the point where he's taking all of his cock because he /wants/ to. He can taste the bitterness of Jack leaking onto his tongue when he swipes it over the flesh, but he's too far gone to complain.

The younger man feels a cold fluid being drizzled onto his entrance and it causes him to jump ever so slightly, but it's replaced with the warmth of those very same long fingers beginning to push into him, starting off with a single digit. Pulling off of Jack's cock long enough to let out a breathy moan, Isaac runs his tongue over the slit, catching some of that clear fluid there, pushing himself back onto the finger as it sinks into him. His tail freely swishes around above him, tensing with each movement that Jack makes inside of him, it's a strange sensation to have with someone watching, something he's denied himself.

"I w-want more.." He admits, his face buried in the material on Jack's thigh, "Please.." there is no restraint left in him to suppress the gasp that leaves him when he stops his movements, resting rather intentionally against the sensitive gland deep inside of him.

The older man responds by taking a hold of Isaac's jaw, lifting him up so that he has to make eye contact, he deliberately stares into his soul with his nearly black eyes, drilling holes into him and chipping away at what little of a tough exterior he has left. "Please what?" He's great at having a poker face, acting as if he doesn't know what Isaac wants, what he /needs/, not until he says just the right thing. The fucked up part about it is that he knows damn well what he wants for him to say, exactly, but even the idea of it has him feeling like he's going to die of shame.

Bright cheeks are a signal that he knows it, too, and Jack looks at him so seriously, the perfect image of dominance and control, never once letting his cool demeanor slip. Whimpering when he curves his fingers to be more targeted towards his prostate, he closes his eyes tightly, chewing his bottom lip nervously before he actually works up to giving in, "Please, daddy, I want more." A flash of heat ghosting over his skin at the words.

It doesn't take hardly any time at all before Jack's fucking him with a single digit again, but this time he keeps a hold of Isaac's face, just watching his reactions. The least of his concern is how he's going to get off in the end, he enjoys teasing and playing around first, and from the looks of it, he's going to manage to make Isaac cum more than once if they keep at this pace. The kid's obviously never felt anybody's hands other than his own, and by how tightly wound up he is, he's willing to bet that even that is a rarity in and of itself.

Slowly working in a second finger, he watches Isaac closely, trying to keep his composure when he whines in the back of his throat like that, having to keep the urge to just fuck him into the leather seats at bay in that moment.


	2. Build Up Monuments and Steeples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the second part of the actual sex being done, and the part where things start to actually get established between both of them. I write a lot sometimes.

He's a man that has a ton of self-restraint and that is one of the main things that sets him apart from the young man, knowing that he can't get a grip on himself even if he wanted to. Jack can sense underlying issues with him already, things that he doesn't -- couldn't know at this point -- but they are definitely something that he makes a mental note on reading into. He is superior to Isaac, both in status and in spirit, but he hopes that one day he will be able to give him the life that he's seeking, even if that means being harsh at times.

It might be too early to say, but he feels a great deal of sympathy for the kid, working his ass off on the sleezy music scene just to try and make a splash, lying to himself and society, trying to be human when it isn't all that it's cracked up to be. He feels like he's something to be protected. Even if that does mean drugging him and taking him away to someplace better.

"You ready for my cock, or you just want me to finish you off like this?" He asks, voice deep and in his chest as he pumps his fingers in and out, making sure to rub against his prostate as much as he can, makes Isaac contemplate pleasure over dignity. He's frankly surprised that he isn't reduced to a babbling mess at that point, his green eyes are someplace distant, but he is able to find his words after a few seconds, "I want to.." and it falls short when he seems to just drift off. Tugging his shirt off over his head and chunking it to the floorboard, he slides his pants down his narrow waist and finds a way to step out of them, allowing for them to meet the rest of his clothing in a pile. Raising himself up to his knees, he grimaces at the loss of contact, the sensation of being empty, he shuffles awkwardly over to Jack and throws one leg over him.

Taking the small bottle of lube that had been carelessly tossed aside, he pops the cap open and gets some of the fluid onto two of his fingers, liberally applying it to himself as he takes a seat on Jack's lap. The older man still has to look down at Isaac slightly, even with him in this position, but he likes it that way, taking that moment to gently push some of his hair out of his face to get a better look at him. Jack does have to admit that he feels guilty over giving Isaac a substance to alter his inhibitions, but is reminded that it's only GHB and MDMA, that he wouldn't do anything that he didn't want to at that dose. It's just something to free him, make him do what he's been scared of all these years, cut him loose.

Plus, he's pretty sure that the kid has at least experimented with the way that he carries himself.

Reaching behind himself and holding Jack's cock against his hole, he lowers himself cautiously, the tight ring of muscle being stretched by the head as he does so. Isaac's teeth gently bite into his bottom lip and he doesn't stop, a kind of adorable determination on his face combined with the way that he looks at him for approval, as if he's doing the wrong thing. Resting both of his hands on the angles of his hip bones, he has to deliberately keep his grip slack as he does, not wanting for his first experience to be riddled with pain or anything unpleasant. The circumstances are already strange as it is. Leaning his head back and resting it against the back of his seat, he never would have imagined that a virgin would feel as incredible as everyone states that it is.

Isaac makes a soft little keening noise when he finally gets every inch inside of himself and Jack can see a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, even if he tries to hide it by averting his eyes and glancing down at the older man's chest instead. Tipping the young man's head up by his chin, Jack leans forward and captures his lips in a passionate kiss, keeping back a mild chuckle at how he hesitates to return it, practically trembling at that point. It's strangely endearing to taste a man that hasn't been had by anyone else, he's sweet, as cliche as that sounds. In the end, it's Isaac that dares to run his tongue along Jack's parted lips, almost as if he's asking for permission, to which he replies eagerly by meeting him with a playful lick of his own, swiping his tongue against his. For the longest time Isaac just stays still, not wanting to rush things and accidentally hurt himself, his bushy brown tail swaying from side to side as the kiss between them becomes more feverish and needy. Moaning into Jack's mouth, Isaac delicately lifts himself up and goes back down, just to get himself acclimated to having something so big moving inside of him, trying to get to a point where the stretch isn't uncomfortable but something that he craves.

"You're doing a great job, baby," He encourages him, breaking away, moving to nip at his collarbone and up towards the shell of his ear, groaning in response when Isaac rolls his hips, "Being such a good pet for me." He sighs. The pace is too slow, even though the tight heat of Isaac's ass is perfect and quite possibly the best thing he's ever had, he just wants to slam into him, make him cry and surrender to him fully. Grinding himself up and into Isaac in an attempt to get himself deeper, he buries his face into his neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there, hoping that he leaves bruises that will linger for days.

The young man's breath hitches in his throat at that, being marked implies that Jack has some sort of claim to him, and combined with the way that he keeps referring to himself as "daddy" and him as "pet", he's sure that's what's going through his mind. That being said, he fucking loves it.

Taking a hold of Isaac's thighs, Jack lifts him up from the seat with ease, only getting a yelp of surprise in return when he's thrown off guard and he is forced to drape his arms around Jack's shoulders to keep himself from falling. Moving to the adjacent row of seats, he sets him back down, holding onto the backs of his knees and pushing his legs back towards his chest. He's so exposed like this but he doesn't even flinch, scootching himself to the end of the leather so that he can get a good angle, light eyes expectant and his ears twitching subtly with enthusiasm. There is the thought in the back of Jack's mind about how much potential he has to be something better, he's obedient at heart, he's cute, and likely easily influenced. He knows that he can train him better than anybody, teach him restraint and keep him out of trouble, give him a roof over his head and nice clothes.

A breathy and lisp-laced voice breaks through the older man's internal monologue and he has to shake his head to get his mind off of the /what if/, "You waitin' for en engraved invitation?" Isaac asks, eyebrow raised in regards to Jack's pause. At that he steadies his cock at the base and lines himself up, he's still wet from earlier and used to his girth, so he doesn't feel guilty at all when he chooses to shove himself in to the hilt without any further delay. It shouldn't be hot, but Isaac practically fucking purrs when he does, makes this noise of appreciation when he sinks into him and starts to pound into him, steady and merciful at first but quickly building into something that has no definite rhythm and surely shows no pity.

"Fuck, I -- " Isaac can't even finish that sentence because of his brain going haywire, the rest of it is lost into a loud noise that can't even register to his ears, but he can hardly make out the way that Jack encourages him, praises him in that voice that is all authority and honey. Hooking the smaller man's legs over his shoulders, he continues, his ultimate goal is to break Isaac until he's gone completely, have him sobbing and shuddering and stuttering, trying his best to save face when it's all been stripped from him already. That's how Jack wants him, and he wants it to only be for him.

He's absolutely wrecked already, fingernails digging into Jack's forearms until he has the sense to pin his wrists down at his sides, his cock something forgotten, a secondary thought. There is the part of him that ponders if orgasms are mandatory or if they are a privilege that needs to be earned as he watches him, writhing under his weight and restraint, no doubt at the very brink of verbally begging for release.

Isaac growls underneath his breath, venomous and it would be threatening if it weren't for Jack having the upper hand, "Fucking prick." He grits out, and if he isn't mistaken there is a small flicker of lust in his tone, the way that the corner of his mouth ticks upwards. The texture and heat of his insides are tempting him to push himself to the edge of his orgasm and just selfishly leave Isaac unfulfilled after that remark, but instead he chooses to slow down, painfully so. Capturing both of his arms, he secures them over his head and is pleasantly surprised to find that he can keep them there with only one of his hands.

A sticky sweet grin is plastered all over his face when he manages it, giving him a look that conveys that he's going to regret it, that he's a man to be respected, and more importantly that he needs to learn to hold his tongue. Using a single finger, he keeps all of his length inside of Isaac and runs it along the underside of his cock, tormenting him with the idea that he may not ever get what he wants in the end.

Jack allows himself to laugh, but it isn't genuine, it's only to humor Isaac if anything, "So you think that I'm a 'fucking prick', is that it?" He asks, as if he needs clarification, looking the younger man over as if he's a petulent child that's in for a lecture. Perhaps that's what he is in his eyes, some kid that needs to be taught a lesson. The slickness of Isaac's precum makes it easy for his fingertip to glide over the sensitive area, from the slit all the way down to his balls before running back up.

Isaac sucks in a breath, his body betraying him far before Jack can even get his point across, "Daddy doesn't like it when you talk to him like that, sweetheart." He chides, pausing at the tip to examine the consistency of his fluid. A whimper seems to be choked back poorly on Isaac's part, but Jack continues anyways, this time taking him into his hand entirely, giving him a couple of attentive and loving strokes while he's at it.

"I'm s-sorry.." His voice sounds like it's going to crack at all of the torture, his thighs trembling and his body is all but quaking with all the /need/ that he has inside of him. If almost seems as if he'll cry actual tears if he keeps denying him, working him up and leaving him high and dry, showing him that he's not the one in charge. Isaac's tongue flicks out to wet his lips, "I didn't mean it.. " The urge to add a "Fuck you" to the end of it is really tempting, but that part of him needs to shut its fucking trap, he reasons. Jack nods an approval of Isaac's short-handed apology, tells himself that it's the first offense and that he'll get better at behaving as the days come and go. His own cock is throbbing inside of that tight ass of his, a heated pit in the bottom of his stomach hinting that he should take care of himself and call it a night.

Setting Isaac free from where he had him previously held down, he begins to get into that ruthless thrusting pattern, the sound of his thighs hitting his ass fill the vehicle, and he's damn sure that the driver is having one hell of a show up front. After that, the kid keeps his curses to "Oh god"s and "Fuck yes"s, not wanting to slip up and call the whole thing off by accident.

That heat inside of his body builds with each motion that he makes, climbing up and getting more intense, making him unable to think about anything other than how fucking great it feels and how fucking hot Isaac looks like that, all swears and urgency. As he jerks Isaac off, he rubs his thumb over his frenum and admires the way that it makes his thighs clench together, almost too sensitive and too good for his previously virgin body to comprehend. His breathing is ragged, laced with grunts and sighs when he gets to the tipping point, only allowing himself to get there when he feels Isaac's cock twitching in his hand as his orgasm hits. Spurting warm strings of cum over his knuckles, Isaac arches off of the seat just barely, eyes clenched closed and his hair a mess as he does, all energy practically robbed from him.

"Here." Jack mumbles under his breath, unsure if it's been drowned out by all of the physical sensations, or if he even said it as he lifts his filthy hand to Isaac's face and offers it to him. As he keeps fucking him, he almost expects for him to reject it with a wrinkled nose, but instead he leans forward and runs his tongue over his knuckles, one by one, even making sure that he hasn't missed any spots when he's done. It sends him over the edge, Jack's mouth even going agape for a second in awe at his willingness to take orders, the world-dulling pleasure taking him over only a minute after that. He rides out his climax, giving a couple of slow and deep thrusts into him as he fills him up, making sure to get the most of it.

He pulls out and tucks himself away first off, combing his fingers through his dark hair and just keeping the silence in tact, unsure of what the future holds and unsure of what he will do or say now that there is no incentive to play along.

He hears movement and assumes that it's Isaac getting dressed and ready to leave, probably to try and tell everyone he knows about the strange guy he had met,. Once he works up to speaking, he glances up only to see Isaac laying there curled in on himself, remnants of cum still on his belly as he sleeps soundly on the leather seating. Unbelievable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should probably be noted that I'm always looking for co-writers and roleplayers of the like. Also, feedback is super appreciated.


	3. Part Of Your Brain That Has Opinions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is sort of a creep that kidnapped somebody, but it's for his own good technically, so. Just doing mini chapters for some reason because I am not as productive today.

Lights pass by the windows of the limozine like wisps of flickering fire, different shades of neon blending in with them until it's nothing but a visual cacophony. You would think that Jack would grow tired of it just as Isaac does, watching the treelines turn to cityscapes, all cut off squares in lieu of points and rounded hills, more precise and less intimate as it expands in all directions. There are lessons to be learned in all of the demolition and paving of roadways, the destruction of nature and the way that the animals -- Anything that isn't human -- Is forced into isolation. They were intended to live among nature, not on top of it, not the great rulers and conquerors that they sought out to become. Leaders, yes, but not for the sake of their own desire. Instead they used it for manipulation, passive at first but switching to active when the greed started to settle into their bellies, the need for more more more.

With this more more more comes a sense of entitlement, and with that entitlement comes a sense of exclusion, who deserves to be given their fair share and those that sacrifice theirs in order to fill the pockets of others. Isaac is expected to be that lamb that is brought to the slaughter, falling onto the guillotine with grace so that his blood may quench the thirst of the masses, the person at the bottom so that they might climb onto his back and work their way to the top. Jack knows that they'll chew him up and spit him out, leaving him just as broken and complacent as they want him to be, left to be another drone that chases the dollar of a big business to get by. Though, he would be lucky to even have that much of an opportunity given his hybrid status, Jack reckons that he would be more likely destined for a cage in the local pound before they would willingly set him out into society to make an honest living for himself. The third option is that he could sell himself, to somebody that could take care of him, provide shelter and all that he could want and more -- Somebody like Jack.

The kid doesn't even stir in his sleep when offers to tip the driver to help him into the house because god knows that he isn't going to trust him with carrying Isaac into what many people would refer to as a mansion. He does hear him grumble something when he throws him over his shoulder but he can't make any sense out of it, doesn't really need to, figures that it's likely something silly about one of his dreams. It's not surprising that he hardly weighs anything, probably living off of a diet of ramen noodles and liquor with the way that he carries himself, going on van tours around the country leaves any room for many variations from those standards. Once they're inside, he walks over to a couch and gingerly sets Isaac down, examining him for a split second for any signs of him waking prematurely before he goes back to the front door to pay off the chauffeur for the night. The man's seen him have some wild experiences, but nothing as unbelievable as this, so he doesn't hesitate to make it worth his while to keep his mouth closed in hopes of future business.

While he's out like a lightbulb, Jack has plenty of time to prepare for the squabble that will likely result from his actions, having his speeches ready and his best suit pressed and clean for when he wakes. He's still completely nude, but he does have his clothes in a pile somewhere around the house, though he doesn't want to tell him that for the fear that he might put them back on and look unpresentable despite his attractive features. When he does come to it's followed by a shrill scream from the upper floor, he's hollering something about "help me" from up there and Jack blinks in confusion at first until he realizes that he's trying to call for the neighbors that he assumes he has.

Making his way up the flight of stairs in the direction of his voice, he tries to recall what he had planned to tell him, wants it not to come across as creepy but generous, but he knows that it's going to fall short with Isaac acting irrationally. Taking in a deep breath, he twists the doorknob and slowly opens it, at first only glancing in, taking an assessment of all of the damage that he can hear him making. The glass and porcelain from the lamps that once were on the nightstands are scattered over the floor, books and anything he can find thrown about to make a mess, the biggest ruckus that he can manage. In the center of the room is where he is, voice cracking and hoarse before he falls into a quiet sort of pout when he takes note of Jack's presence, hand gripping at the leather collar that is locked around his throat.

"You can't keep me like this," He sounds so pathetic like that and it does pull at his heart strings the way that he's stressed his vocal chords, something more genuine than how he screams on stage, fear and frustration of being backed into a corner, "I'm not your fucking pet." He sniffles. It couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes that he had left him up there, listening but choosing not to act when it became apparent that he was very irate, he's frankly impressed that he all but destroyed the room in that time frame. Isaac is positioned facing away from him, naked and seated on his knees, and he can see the thick padlock on the back of the collar, keeping it fastened to his neck. Jack makes a note to himself to keep the young man away from sharp objects, should he grow the courage to slash the leather and make a run for it. Coiled around on the ground is a silver chain, thick enough that it would be impossible to cut through with household items, and it runs up the hybrid's back when he hunches forward, looped into the other side of the lock so that he can't leave the room.

Along his wrists and ankles are identical strips of the material, tight against the skin so that he can't wriggle himself free, soft enough that he wouldn't harm himself if he tried. Taking care not to step onto the glass, he keeps his eyes on Isaac in case he wants to retaliate, but he's measured out the room, the chain and how much slack he has before he's choking himself with every step he takes, cruel but necessary.

"Being my pet is better than living the life of an alley cat," He chuckles, a bit pleased with himself, but he's brought back to the issue at hand that Isaac is half of an animal, and one that hasn't been trained to be friendly, so he has to focus on keeping him calm and rational.

"I'll keep my word, every bit of it. I've got my own recording studio and you'll be given access to it at all times, you'll get anything that you ask for --"

"I want to go home."

"Well, that's too bad, because you're staying here with me, and you're going to have to get used to it." The silence is prolonged, but the hybrid wonders if that's because he's dreading the next thing that he's going to say. 

"As I was saying; You'll get what you want, food, shelter," He gestures towards the beautifully varnished wood around them, "As many records as you can dream up, and they'll be released on my label. You'll be allowed to tour, as well. Most importantly of all is that you're accounted for and that you're legally mine, so the world can't dictate your life and take away your rights, which means you won't be sterilized and thrown into your own little slice of heaven at the pound." Even he admits that there is a bit of a snide tone to his voice at the end, implying that Isaac should show some gratitude.

The younger man isn't an idiot, he knows that he's not going to reach where Jack is, and even if he did he's sure that he's not going to have the key on him, he's going to have to find another way of leaving. Even though it's entirely tight around his neck, so much that he has to force his fingers in between, he keeps tugging at it, as if it will miraculously remove itself with enough effort. One of the last things that he had wanted when became self-aware was for him to belong to somebody, like property.


	4. Effect and Cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> contractual shit that happens before banging again, so like, yeah

Over the course of the next couple of days it starts the same each time, Jack making it glaringly obvious that he's a morning person when he steps into his room with a tray of food at precisely 6:30 in the a.m., chipper and lively when Isaac is undeniably groggy. The first time it makes him wake with a start and he covers himself with one of his thick blankets, backing up against the headboard and shooting him a look that shows he's expecting something unpleasant. It makes him feel guilty, but Jack takes the risk of stepping into the range where he would be perfectly capable of harming him, but then again the chains aren't there to prevent him from lashing out. Isaac, all messy hair and angst-ridden expressions, studies him carefully when he folds out the bars on the tray and settles them over his legs, and he can tell by the looks of the stuff on the plate that it's something from IHop that he had retrieved earlier on.

Jack seems to take notice of the way that he stares at the food and wonders if there is something wrong with it, knows that he doesn't have the capability to actually cook anything due to his barely there skills in that subject, it's the best he can do, "I'm not very good with breakfast," /Or anything else/, he reminds himself mentally, "So I picked that up for you. I tried to get a good variety in case you were really hungry, or if there were some things you didn't like." He swallows hard, anxious. Having millions of dollars in your bank account doesn't keep you from real life situations such as this, conflict and compromise, the nerves that he feels in his gut when he isn't sure if he's impressed someone or disappointed them.

The cat's ears finally perk upwards after such a long time of them being tucked down, displaying fear that he likely didn't want to, his fingers moving to pick up the fork and knife before he looks back up at Jack again, "The food looks fine as long as you didn't poison it." He admits, but figures that if he wanted him dead that he would spare him the kindness or the offers of luxurious housing and recording space. There is bitterness there, but Jack has to admit that it is justified given the unknown aspect of their relationship, his intentions and what he expects to gain from him, it's all very reasonable.

He truly spared no expense on the meal and Isaac is a bit unsure of where to start first, seeing that he basically bought everything that he could have in an attempt to appease him, he settles on cutting up a piece of sausage and putting it into his mouth silently.

"I wouldn't do something like that," He shakes his head, smiling a bit to himself, "Not to somebody like you." Jack concludes, because there are certainly people that he would do that to, religious fanatics that use their faith to justify their homophobia and racism as well people that have the ability to, but refuse to help others.

He's relieved to see that Isaac is eating, though, more than anything else, the kid looks like he could use a good meal, and it shows by the way that he tries to restrain himself from letting it show through the way he eats. There is obvious concern on Jack's face, wondering how long he's been roughing it, a combination of short-lived tours and then having to come back to his hometown, one that has records of what he is and fully approves companies denying him a job. If Jack has to guess, he would believe that Isaac doesn't have an actual job, but is able to scrounge up enough money from his gigs that he can survive, but not have an ideal situation on his hands. Probably even has to get handouts from doughnut shops, a thought that makes Jack cringe, but he decides not to spend too much time lingering on it.

In the midst of the younger man shoveling food into his mouth with as much grace as can be expected, he hesitates after a swallow full and looks at him out of the corner of his eye, perhaps feeling a bit of pride trying to tug at his conscience, "Thank you..But this doesn't mean that I forgive you for kidnapping me.." He trails off, clearing his throat before continuing his meal. He tries his very best to keep himself from making eye contact with Jack after that, very much aware of the fact that he's chewed his way through half of it, but he's frankly a bit scared that there won't be another opportunity like this at a later time.

The older man seems to read his mind exactly, folding his arms across his chest and speaking up, "Don't make yourself sick trying to force all that down or I won't feel sorry for you when you have to miss out on lunch." it's obvious what his concerns are, what his human reasoning and animal instinct tell him to think, to live in this moment because the future isn't certain, but he's safe and sound and there isn't much that can change that. It's almost as if Jack is truly Isaac's parent, having to chastise him and lay things out plainly in sight.

It takes a bit of faith on Isaac's part to trust Jack, knowing that he could very well be giving him some sort of substance currently, or that he could be lying to him and that this could be the last thing that he's going to get to eat in days. Once Jack has taken away the food and sat it aside, he places a stack of papers on his lap and watches as he briefly skims over the words on the front page, flips to the second and then drops it with a look of disinterest. Isaac's eyebrows come together and his nose wrinkles just a bit as he lets out a soft sigh of frustration at it, "I'm not signing a fucking contract." He shakes his head, combing a hand through his hair and then resting he head there, "I'm /not/ signing a contract." He repeats.

There is a temper that he tries to hide, one that landed him in jail for a short time and in the chairs of an anger management course, so he has to force himself to settle for holding his arms there, crossed over his chest instead of excalating the situation, "Then you won't leave this room, and I won't be able to keep up my part of the bargain." he points at the aforementioned contract once for emphasis, "So you'd better sign it, because I don't owe you anything that I've offered. I could treat you as poorly as I want."

"But, with that contract," He continues with a stern expression, one that reminds him of a lawyer with the severity in his tone, and it makes Isaac wonder if he should ask him if one should be present while he looks the document over, "I would be legally obligated to." it is meant to be a consolation, but he has to question what Jack is gaining in return. Turning to the second page and actually taking the time to read it in its entirety, he gets through all of the legal stuff, telling him that it's a binding contract between the both of them as individuals, but it isn't until he gets to the first rule that his mouth goes dry.

'The individual by the name of Isaac Brock is contractually a slave, from this date forward' There is a neatly hand written date placed into the blank with black ink before the writing continues, 'under the ownership of, and solely for, Jack White'. He tries to keep an open mind about the whole thing, but having it placed on paper like that for him to read makes it all seem very intimidating.

'The Slave will not leave the residence without supervision (This supervision is under the discretion of the owner) and permission to disclosed and approved locations, at times that are to be negotiated.' It doesn't seem like too much of a stretch, but it is rather daunting to imagine himself unable to leave and roam about freely as he wishes, 'While in public, The Slave will not be allowed to present themselves as human, and they are required to wear their collar at all times. At the expense of The Owner, it is expected for The Slave to have a tracking device implant, which is not to be tampered with.'

It takes him about fifteen minutes to make his way through the entire stack of papers, partially skimming through them as to not overload his brain on the minute details, but he gets the gist of what is expected of him. He isn't allowed to do drugs or drink unless he's being watched, he can't fuck anybody else, he can't tell Jack that he can't do something to him, he isn't allowed to talk back, and he's got a contract there telling him that if he breaks those rules that he's going to get punished. It states very clearly in the writing that all punishments are to be chosen by Jack and that none of them will harm him permanently, or severely enough to cause exponential harm, but they are non-negotiable.

At the end of it, there are two slots for signatures, one already occupied by a swooping and well-planned name, large and confident in his writing, and the other is blank, waiting for his approval or rejection. Isaac idly taps his fingers against the side of the papers, reaching out towards the older man after a minute or so of him just considering, signaling for him to bring him a pen. He has to admit that it's better than anything life would ever offer him out on the streets, and it's a small fine to pay for all that he gets in return.

Taking it from Jack when he offers it to him, he has to practically hold his breath when he signs it hastily, going silent once he does and holding out the contract with the pen on top of it for him to take it back. He actually has a shot at becoming somebody now, even despite his hybrid status, so that keeps him from feeling guilty for essentially selling his soul, but Jack doesn't mock him or tease him for his choice, instead placing a hand on his head and petting him.

"I'm glad you made the right choice," His voice is genuine, actually relieved that he didn't refuse it, "I'm going to make sure that you don't regret it."


	5. Cut Me Down To My Knees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm trash that can't write a substantial amount, so stay tuned for things.

It isn't until the next day that the chains come off and that he's allowed to roam around the house as he wishes, but he does notice the areas identical to the one that had been built into the wooden floor of the room he was in, fashioned to secure a chain. Isaac feels confident in his assumption that Jack could put him back into chains if he did something that deserved it, and he would have the supplies to do it and not even make it an inconvenience for himself. So, he sighs, not comfortable with the concept of making a run for it, not entirely sure what type of traps and measures he's taken to ensure that he doesn't escape, even if he's sworn away his soul in black fucking ink.

He's nude, void of anything aside from the black leather around his neck that signifies Jack's ownership, even when he is nowhere to be seen. It never was an issue of his to be seen in such a state when others were aware of his genetic make up, so he pads around, the only noises that he can hear are his own thoughts, namely the ones urging him to figure out an exit. His eyes scan the living room and he can't help but take notice of the front door, an unusual shade of blue that seems out of contrast with the layout of the house, and he wonders if it was meant to stand out. In the center of it is a sheet of paper, placed there all too professionally and symmetrical, beckoning him closer to read it.

'Dear Isaac,' It opens once he gets into reading distance, pushing his glasses up along the bridge of his nose before he continues, ears perked at attention, 'There are a number of packages that are expected to arrive today, the contents of which are to be worn at all times unless otherwise specified. If you have any issues, my number is by the phone in the kitchen. Love, Daddy.' The closer of it has him all shades of red, stuck in that one place as he just eyes that specific word, mesmerized almost. After he's come down from that initial shock of how bold Jack truly is, he fakes himself out a couple of times trying to go for the doorknob but is pleasantly surprised when it gives him no resistance, doesn't shoot out arrows or tranquilizer darts.

Opening it just enough that he can see outside, he briefly scans the horizon and comes to the conclusion that Jack doesn't have anybody anywhere near him, and that he must have bought himself some land outside of the city just for that purpose. On the porch, he instantly spots four packages that are of considerable size and briefly considers how long he must have slept, curses his genetics for those long naps he just can't seem to control. Stepping out, he bends down to pick up the packages and bring them inside, but he weighs his options, pondering whether or not this is a test and if he would be severely hurt because of his decisions.

It does pain him to admit it, but he doesn't know what Jack is capable, and what type of temper he would suddenly flaunt if he were to find that he had gone missing. It's not like it would be difficult to track him, either, living on couches and out of shitty motel rooms when he has the spare change, a man like him could have everyone eating out of the palm of his hand with bribes and charisma. He would find him indefinitely and then the chains would be back on, at all times, making it impossible to even think about leaving. Isaac believes that in that moment, the best thing that he can do is play along, be a good pet until he has something lined up that's just crazy enough to work.

Plus -- and he would never say this out loud -- He's not even quite sure that he wants to leave the place with how cushy of a lifestyle it is, and with how good he had been fucked the night they had met. Bringing the boxes inside, he pauses so that he can push the door closed with his ankle before he moves over towards one of the couches and sets them down, unsure of what exactly he had been expected to open them with in the first place. Instead of making the logical choice to simply walk to the kitchen to get himself a knife, he chooses to peel at the tape, working at the ends and then tugging at the strips to open them.

When he actually gets to catch a glimpse of what's been ordered for him to wear, he freezes for a fraction of a second before moving to the next package and frantically picking at the tape before hastily pushing the folds open and then doing the same. He goes through that same process, getting increasingly nervous with each one not making the situation better, but worse. Running both of his hands through his hair and resting them at the back of his head, he tilts his chin up towards the ceiling, eyes on the texture there instead of the impending humiliation that he's going to go through, focusing on the expansion and retraction of his ribcage as he fills his lungs, empties them.

It's not like he's going to have to leave the house with it on, he thinks, hopes even, because he wouldn't ever leave the house if that were the case. Sitting untouched in the largest of the boxes is a pink and white outfit, it's obvious that it was a dress from the moment he saw it, decorated to mimic a maid's uniform. He can only assume that there are others underneath it, just as embarrassingly feminine, so that he has one to wear each day of the week without having the convenient excuse of it being dirty. Lifting up the fabric of the outfit on the top, of fucking course there's one underneath it with the same color scheme, he's fuming by the time he makes it to the kitchen, fingers shaking as he dials the number left there.

"What's new pussy cat?"

The urge to slam the phone down on the receiver is real, all too real in this case, but he finds the self restraint not to curse him out or worse, do something that could cause him to be punished severely -- Disrespect him in return. It's just a jest, and he should know that he means nothing by it, but he still tightens his hand around the phone, knuckles white.

"I'm not wearing it." He says with a monotonous voice despite his clenched teeth, as badly as he wants to say 'fuck you' he can swallow it down, instead setting his sights on what's in the fridge while Jack isn't around to mediate that. There is dead air for a few seconds before he explains "Because that wasn't in the contract." nodding his head once as an affirmation that yes, he's putting his foot down.

"If you remember clearly, the contract stated that 'The Slave will do all that is asked of them by The Owner', which, unfortunately for you in this case, would mean that you are in no position to refuse. I didn't have many errands today and I'll be at the house in about twenty minutes, so I suggest that you have the outfit on by the time I get there."

"You seriously want me to wear this fucking thing?"

"Stockings and all." He confirms, "Panties, too." And he shouldn't sound so casual about that, like he's speaking with his mother about the weather, but Isaac just attributes that to all of his years of being in a business that is known for being harsh and brutally honest with people.

"And if I don't?" Isaac reaches for an apple on the counter, mind truly elsewhere, anywhere, but the conversation at hand, he's all but dismissed Jack at that point, set in his decision to not abide by that one rule, "What would happen to me then?"

"Well," Jack seems to be humored by something on the other end and it doesn't occur to Isaac that it's his idea that he has the option to refuse, "Daddy would have to come home and put you over his knee until you apologized nicely and did as you were told in the first place."

All of the blood in Isaac's body seems to go to his cock in that instant and he suddenly doesn't feel hungry, but angered at both himself and Jack for bringing out this side in him, even if it would appear as if those desires had been hidden inside of him for years. Just like when he's too hungover to function, he wishes that he had somebody to blame, but the only person to shake his finger at is himself, even when he knows he'll do it again the next time.

He doesn't want to give his body the reaction that it wants, because he isn't going to put that fucking dress on, and he sure as fuck isn't going to get himself off at the last minute before Jack comes home to find him without it on. He can take a spanking, he isn't a child, he reassures himself, lips pressed into a thin line as he doesn't even have to consider his options, because he's sticking to his guns.

"Well, then /daddy's/ gonna have to be real fuckin' disappointed." He hangs up on him before he can actually hear any sort of response from the other end, grabbing some lunch meat and cheese from the fridge so that he can make himself a sandwich. He tries his very best not to think about what's going to happen in less than half an hour as he fixes himself some lunch and even goes back for a beer, hoping that it will calm his nerves. He knows that he could do something drastic like burn the packages in protest, but it seems a little harsh, and he hopes that if Jack has the option of returning them that he won't be so angry.

 

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Quiet panic rattles Isaac's core when he can hear the garage door being opened in the distance, an engine being cut off only confirming what he had hoped was paranoia. Instead of actually doing anything to save his skin he stays in place, admittedly munching on his sandwich only because of the fact that it's keeping his mind off of what Jack had threatened would happen if things didn't go his way.

When he actually does walk through the door it's not dramatic or loud like he expects for it to be, though he does run his eyes over Isaac's naked body and he can tell that he's not impressed at all with his disobedience. Shoving his keys into his pocket on his way over towards a crystal decanter, he pours himself out some of the amber fluid into a clear glass and walks around the couch to take a seat next to the hybrid.

Despite there being two couches adjacent to one another that hold enough space for the both of them to never have to be seated so closely, Jack picks the cushion that's next over from him, close enough that their shoulders are practically touching in a relaxed position. Isaac chews his food slowly, too slowly, as if he's trying to keep his mouth busy for the fear that he might say something to fuck things up even worse, or he believes that it might buy him some time.

Green eyes flit over in Jack's direction before they set forward once more when he becomes aware that he's being watched, a suit clad arm resting on the back of the couch to further invade his personal space. They're all mind games, things that are deliberately done to show him his position, put him in his place, break him down notch by notch until he's nothing but submissive, and the fucked up part is that it's actually working.

"I think that we should have a talk, Isaac." He is the first one to break the silence, but his tone is absolutely sincere and he speaks as if he isn't the least bit angered by his insubordination, it's as if he's actually troubled by it. Sipping from the mouth of his glass, he sets it down onto the coffee table, even taking the effort to place a coaster underneath it before he utters another syllable. The amount of care that Jack has towards tiny details such as that is baffling to Isaac, who has no issue with throwing his clothing around in motel rooms and having his items unorganized.  

At the end of his lunch is the looming issue on hand that he's taken the effort to ignore a command given to him from a man that has enough money to buy his soul, a man that has the resources to ruin his life completely and give him nothing in return. He could leave him high and dry and tear up the contract, make sure that no label will ever touch him in the future, probably even get him kicked out of the damn town if he gets pissed enough.

"What you did today was unacceptable and I expect that it won't be happening again," Jack starts it off with a fatherly tone, one that shouldn't make him as confused as it does, never once taking his eyes off of him, "I'm very disappointed that this of all things was the first command that you chose to disobey me on, especially since we just started our relationship and this was a relatively mild thing for me to order you to do." He sounds so clinical, like a doctor that's delivering him bad news, gesturing subtly with his hands.

"Do you understand where I'm coming from, Isaac?" He asks.

Clearing his throat to get the awkward lump out of it, he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and finally nods in reply, resting his ankle on his thigh as he leans back, unintentionally getting a small amount of distance between them. There is a smile that comes across Jack's face and it's oddly unnerving -- predatory, Isaac thinks -- in such a way that it gives him the hint that he's absolutely not off of the hook.

Making the next move before the younger man can even see it coming, Jack takes a fist full of Isaac's hair at the roots, pulling on it roughly, feeling a sadistic thrill at how it takes his breath away for a moment before he hisses at the pain. On instinct, he tries to pull his hand out of his hair, fingernails digging into his skin and just struggling in general, but while he's focused on that it's the perfect opportunity for Jack to force him over his lap.

"God fuckin' damn it!" He exclaims, legs kicking and his arms trying their best to lift him off of Jack, off of the couch and onto the floor at least so that he can make a run for it, but the older man is quick to secure an arm over his shoulder blades and hook a leg around his own to keep him still. In the midst of the struggle, Isaac is becoming increasingly fixed on the notion that he's completely naked in Jack's lap, and he's /sober/ for Christ's sakes. He all but is required to push his face into the couch at that thought, letting out a frustrated groan into the material there, thankful that it does a pretty good job at hiding how truly embarrassed he actually is.

Isaac does the logical thing; He starts to grasp at straws, "I-I'll put on the fuckin' dress if you don't beat my ass." it's a bit hard to understand him when he's flustered, especially on account of the lisp and the fashion in which he doesn't want to remove his face from the sofa's cushion.

"No," Jack retorts, raising his free hand up in the air high enough that it'll sting like hell when it comes down again, "It's too late for that."


	6. I Could Hang Myself For Treason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which it becomes blatantly obvious that the author has lost their mind and is daddy kink trash. I'm sorry if it's all shit, I've been having migraines all fucking week and dubious consent and cute lispy gay guys in dresses makes me feel better.. Kinda. We're getting straight up primal in this house, straight up nasty gay things ahead. Part 1 of the Part 2 of the sex stuff because why not.

If it would have been in another situation where Jack could have planned for having to punish Isaac, he would have wanted to use his belt in place of his hand. Still, he knows that it will suffice for putting his slave into place, a tactic that provides both humiliation and physical pain to enforce it, dig it deep into his brain. He wants what's best for him, he always has and he always will, there is a soft spot that Isaac strikes deep inside of him, something that makes him recall the beginning days of his musical career, but that doesn't mean that he's going to go easy on him.

Just as Isaac is about to try and talk back to him about the decision being final he brings his hand down onto the swell of his ass, making sure not to hold back in the strength he puts into it. The sooner than he can get the hybrid to hit that breaking point is the sooner that they can stop, and that they can move on with their day. Sure, there is enjoyment in what he does, the way that he squirms on his lap and still holds onto the belief that he can somehow get himself free, unaware of how many times he's actually done this.

He doesn't stop there, beginning to swat at the sensitive area where his thighs meet the curvature of his backside, knowing damn well that he'll feel it for hours later -- Days if he really wants to get cruel and drag it out. Just the idea of Isaac not being able to sit down without wincing and complaining tempts him to sit there for a good ten minutes with a firm strip of leather, whip him with it until blood starts to well at the surface and create a multitude of dark bruises. God, he knows how perfect Isaac looks when he's going off of instinct, unable to control himself or even think about the concept of dignity, and he's willing to wager that he would see those results a lot more quickly if pain were added to the mix.

A little keening noise drowns itself out when Isaac digs his teeth into his bottom lip, hard enough that he's taken back when blood doesn't spring to the surface and leave his tongue with a hint of copper. The hits come one after another in quick succession in such a way that doesn't give him much time to even react to it, just having to ride it out with his vocal chords and tense muscles.

It's only yet another noose around his neck when he feels himself growing hard against Jack's thigh and with each movement that he makes it's only getting worse, grinding himself unintentionally into him with each hit. Instead of keeping quiet about it Isaac can hear a chuckle from above him, it's indirect, and he's trying his best just to focus on the pain of being spanked, but he just /has/ to say something.

"You getting off on this?" He asks, leaning slightly sideways so that he can get a better look at the younger man's face, or what little he can see of it, a rough hand now rubbing into the warm and reddened skin. When he doesn't answer he earns himself a harsh hit, one that makes him tense up and sharply inhale, mumbling an incoherent curse, "Daddy asked you a question." He prompts him, but Isaac can't form a proper sentence.

Striking at him once more, he seems to lose a bit of the cool exterior he puts on normally, seething, "Is this meant to be an act of rebellion, your silence?" Jack does take note of the way that Isaac shakes his head, moves both of his hands to the back of it to clasp together at the fingers. It's such a shame that his parents hadn't had the foresight to see that he'd end up in such a degrading situation as this, Isaac thinks to himself, quick to be hard on himself, his whole body is twitching with nervous energy, "No," His voice quivers, "Just.. A-Ashamed.."

"And why is that?" He punctuates it with yet another blow, making sure to aim for an area that's already an angered shade of red, his own cock beginning to harden in his pants at the choked sob that he hears. He feels greedy for air, like he can't get enough into his lungs, he's drowning in the worst possible way, "Because I'm a whore," He has the urge to cough on the words, they're like smoke, thick and toxic, "Because I'm disgusting." the restatement hits closer to home.

There is a hand that gently caresses against the base of his tail, where the animal meets human, stroking him and petting him in a way that gets him to relax into his lap, "You're nothing that I don't want," He admits, "You wouldn't be here if you were." and perhaps it's what he needed, to be reassured. When it's just the both of them he can let his pride slip and just feel himself getting praised, pushing his hips off of Jack to lean into the sensation of him stroking his tail. That authoritative voice is in the air again, saying things that combat what his brain is telling him, "I don't want to hear you say things like that about yourself again." He sounds sincere, like he actually feels bad about letting him feel that way.

He knows that he could turn around when Jack's guard is down, scratch him across the face or get as much damage done as he can, but the thing is that he doesn't want to. He's never felt so secure and cared for, even in spite of all of the shit that he's gone through, being taken from his friends and his town, his freedoms. Perhaps there are too many options that come along with absolute freedom, he thinks, it's far more simple to just submit to Jack and cut out the middleman of a college or less-than-honest label.

At least Jack had the decency to let him know what to expect in writing.

"Yes, Daddy." Isaac doesn't feel the need to hold himself back any longer, pressing himself rather blatantly into Jack's leg, just allowing himself to enjoy the contrast between his bare skin and the roughness of his clothing. It makes it hard for Jack to control his impulses, that soft voice sheepishly agreeing with him, calling him that so gently, shying away from the fact that he loves it just as much as he does.

Rubbing circles into Isaac's backside with his fingertips, he listens to his breathing getting more regulated and calm, only subtle flinches happening when he brushes over some of the more tender and sensitive areas. Finally, after such a long extended period of silence where the younger man is probably just spending it reflecting on himself, Jack decides to pull him from those thoughts, "I'll stop the punishment if you put on the outfit," He decides that now is the compromise stage, "But you have to show it to me, no running off and hiding."

Isaac sniffles in such an adorable way that the sadist in Jack is temporarily put in check and he has to pretend that he's still being strict, even though he wants to reach out and stroke his hair and tell him it'll all be alright. Perhaps it's the knowledge of where he comes from and all that he's had to go through, hiding his identity all for a path which is spotty at best and he'd likely not even gain anything from it, but he did it all for the passion that he felt in his music.

A soft and reluctant nod comes from Isaac's end and he rolls himself off of Jack and onto the floor, not really wanting to deal with the awkwardness of backing himself up and worrying about getting into any more strange positions. Crawling towards the packages that caused all of that fuss, he seats himself on his knees and pushes around the clothes in the box, eventually making a selection out of each of them in an attempt to throw together an outfit that makes sense.

If he's going for it, he figures he might as well do it right.

Taking those items and standing up, he looks down at them as if they're going to be the death of him while he walks towards the closest door that he can find, kicking it closed behind himself so that Jack has to wait to see what it'll look like. Raising one of his legs at a time, he delicately steps into each of the stockings until they're at a comfortable place on his thigh, where he believes they're supposed to go. Consulting the floor mirror for reference, he has to admit to himself that it's far more flattering than baggy jeans and a t-shirt.

Stepping into the pair of panties that he had chosen, Isaac pulls them up around his narrow hips, having to take the extra effort in tucking himself into them in the front on account of how he keeps discovering his fetishes on the fly. The next part is the hardest, what he was dreading, but he's now starting to fear that he'll like it too much and that it'll be an integral part of his sexuality. Picking up the pink and white gathering of fabric, he undoes the back of it and puts it on, pushing his arms into their designated areas and moving his arm around to zip it up once it's on completely. It's a bit frustrating at first, trying to get himself into the damn thing, but he manages after a couple of minutes fumbling with the clasp and zipper that traces his spine.

There had been shoes that were likely meant to be worn with it, but Isaac doesn't plan on leaving the house and tells himself that the wooden floors are kind enough to feet that he doesn't need them. He does a once over of himself in the mirror, turning to look at the back of the outfit and how it looks on him, and he's pleasantly surprised to find that it doesn't look bad, it actually makes him look.. Cute, he settles on. Stepping out of the room practically on the tips of his toes, he moves so that he's in front of the older man so that he can get a good look at him, see if he likes what he had ordered and if he thinks that it fits him just right.

When Jack catches a glimpse of him and takes note of his presence it makes Isaac feel appreciated to say the least, like he's something to look at, something to be valued instead of some disgusting mixed-species drug user. A smile comes over the older man in a very charming way, it's sincere and he can tell by it that he isn't making fun of him, or talking shit about how he looks in his head. Seeming to shake himself out of his initially entranced state, he downs the last of his drink and leans back, "Can I see the back?" the question gets an immediate action from Isaac, who turns himself away from him. He can't control it when his tail pushes up the hem of the dress, exposing his still recovering ass now covered with the panties that Jack had ordered specifically for him.

Looking over his shoulder to make sure that Jack isn't stifling back any laughter or snide comments, he instead finds him grabbing himself through the front of his pants, eyeing him hungrily from his seated position. The idea that he's got that sort of response from somebody just for putting on something flattering and showing his ass off is empowering, even despite the contract and the fact that he's very much under Jack's control. It makes him know that the man has a weakness and that he can find a way to perhaps use it in his advantage.

"Come here." It's a command, no room for argument at all, dark eyes still running over each inch of his body even as he approaches, hands reaching out for him when he gets in close enough proximity. Placing a hand flat on his thigh, he trails upwards towards the edge of his panties, fingers disappearing under the light material until Isaac reaches down and holds it for him to get a better view.

Well defined through the thin underwear is an outline of his cock, fully hard and he knows that he's been that way since he put him over his knee, eager and absolutely not used to any perversions, or so it would seem. "It's even better than I could have imagined," He leans forward to place a kiss of admiration to his hip and he grins when Isaac's hand goes to the back of his head without thinking about it, it's clear what he wants Jack to do. Reacting by mouthing at him in compliance with his obvious want and need, he begins where his thighs meet, taking this opportunity to move on to his balls.

Isaac's breath hitches in his throat and he feels him tremble but only in a subtle way that Jack normally wouldn't notice if he weren't looking for it, reveling in all of the insignificant details. So pleased with his new conquest, he nips playfully beneath his navel, hooking a finger around the hem of the panties so that he can tug them down, just enough for his cock to spring free after such a long time of confinement. Perhaps it's because he's a push over in the right scenario, or maybe it's because of how well Isaac had performed that night in the back of the limo that makes him wrap his lips around the younger man's length.

Isaac is almost hypersensitive to the wet warmth of his mouth when he draws him in, letting out a huff of breath that he's been holding in, the hand that's in Jack's hair going to cover his mouth to try and prevent any more reactions from being milked out of him. Biting at his knuckle hard enough that it can temporarily override the pleasure, he glances down, watching Jack as he goes down each inch that he has until the head reaches the back of his throat. There is a hint of bitterness on the older man's tongue when he sucks on Isaac, he's aware that the kid leaks quite a bit when he's worked up and it's oddly endearing to taste him, taking pride in the fact that he can easily get him flustered.

It's difficult to gauge his reaction and Jack certainly doesn't want to let Isaac cum so easily, which he's sure that if he kept going at that rate that he would, so he pulls off after a few more moments of using his mouth on him, tongue running along the underside of him when he does it. The kid looks like his knees are going to buckle and fail at any given time, but he manages to hold himself upright, knuckles white as he holds onto the edge of the skirt too tightly, green eyes now fixated on the slickness of his cock instead of in Jack's direction. He almost seems relieved that he doesn't have to worry about disappointing him by blowing his load too quickly, letting out this gentle sigh that he can't even hear as he regains his hold over his body, giving an impish smile towards his owner. 

"You're such a good pet, Isaac." And he swore to himself a long time ago that anyone that dared to say something along those lines to him would get a scratch across their face or a pretty set of his teeth imprinted into their arm, but he actually feels his tail swish and do small motions in the air in reply to it, an odd sense of belonging found in those words of praise. "You're a good boy for daddy, aren't you?" He's massaging at his balls now, delicately, making sure not to be too rough or too soft with him, grinning to himself when Isaac leans into the touch, starved and craving that kind of attention. 

He doesn't mean to be racist about the whole ordeal, but he honestly believes that in Isaac's case that it's the best case for him to be owned like this, with a man that will give him the praise and resources that he needs. In a perfect world, he would prefer for him to be out free in the world just like the rest of the population but the reality of it is that it isn't a perfect world and that Isaac would very likely fall into the wrong hands. So, he does the next best thing, he silently makes a promise that he'll never beat him, he'll never ignore him, and he'll never let him go without, and most importantly, he'll protect him from what the world wants to do to him. They say that it's in the hybrid's blood to be subservient by nature, to be docile and lost without the strict guidelines of a human to tell them what to do -- Jack isn't quite sure where he stands on that issue, but Isaac's change in character since he's been off the streets certainly does seem to validate the claims. 

"Yes, I am" he swallows thickly, but soon after a strong hand encircles his wrist and guides him over towards the couch, he doesn't have room for thought or questioning, he just does what he's directed to. 

"I want you to bend over the arm of the sofa and I don't want you to get up until I'm finished." Jack sounds stern but it oddly enough sends jolts of excitement all through his body, eventually finding purchase south and pooling in his belly, his cock twitching at the words as he walks himself over with legs that feel like they might collapse. Placing his palms flat onto the leather of the cushions, he pushes his pelvis flush against the arm and makes it a purpose to get his face down near his hands, not entirely, but enough that his ass is sticking up like he knows Jack wants.

The older man leaves his side after a brief period of inspection, watching over him to ensure that he's doing it just how he likes it. It's awkward being bent over a couch waiting to get fucked in the ass, especially when there is a specific type of silence that comes over the room, uncomfortable for ears that desperately try to pick up anything to break it, a ticking of a clock or the whirring of an air conditioner -- There's absolutely nothing. Until the clack of expensive shoes on wood becomes increasingly closer, hurried, it would seem, as he approaches. 

Isaac is about to speak, ask him about what he got from the other room when he left, but any vibrations of his vocal chords are cut off when his arms are jerked behind his back, one by one, in a rough fashion. Turning to shoot Jack a look over his shoulder, he gets out a "The hell you doin'?" but it doesn't get anything out of the older man, who merely continues on his way as it were, taking a short length of rope and tying the two of his thin wrists together behind his back so that they're useless. "Do you have a problem with this?" At least he has the courtesy to ask, but Isaac actually finds himself wiggling with need, the semi rough texture digging into his skin making it all seem more dirty. So he shakes his head enthusiastically, "Fuck no." He finally gets his mouth to catch up with his brain, which is a good couple of minutes behind at this point, to the point where he's just now registering what's going down. 

"Good."

Without any warning his panties are pulled down over the roundness of his ass, down towards his thighs where they're left as an afterthought, the focus of the view are the pale and full mounds there, which Jack almost lovingly runs his hands over with a sense of admiration. Isaac groans into the glossy material, turning his face to the side so he can get a very minimal look at the tall looming figure behind him that is touching him, his eyes fluttering closed tightly when a long digit teases around the hole without any sense of shame. 

He's about to say something about Jack needing lube, but it's clear that the older man has done this many times before and he's come prepared, snapping open the cap and drizzling it generously over him. The coolness of the slick fluid makes him flinch at first, but it quickly adjusts to his body temperature when he starts to rub it into him, eventually going straight for getting two fingers inside of him. At that point Isaac feels as though he's going to drool all over Jack's furniture, that sudden stretch feeling uncomfortable at first until they're both all of the way inside of him, that's when he expertly seeks out his prostate and rubs at it mercilessly. Keening and spreading his legs farther apart, he pushes himself back, wanting them deeper, wanting more more more. 

Jack moves his fingers around, because he wants Isaac helpless and desperate by the time he puts his cock inside of him, wants him to be begging and crying like the first night, because it's so great to watch him come apart. He wants him to be wrecked on his couch to the point where he has to carry him to bed because he's so exhausted, and he's damn set on making that his mission. 

"God damn," The hybrid whimpers, all soft and restrained, "Put more in me, I want you to fill me up." 

He doesn't know when he became so well-versed in asking for things like these when back in the day he had too much pride to ask for a quarter at a gas station, but here he is, asking for more fingers in his ass. The older man finds it adorable, if he's honest with himself, how quickly he's getting greedy when it's so obvious that Isaac had been a virgin before they met that it's painful, soon enough he bets that he'll be crawling into his lap whining about how he never gets any play. 

 


	7. Fingers Too Numb To Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, bitch, you thought you'd seen the last of me. My headcanons and ideas for this fic are never-ending, and as you sit before your computer screen with a look of horror on your face, you ask yourself "why? What did the world do to deserve this?" and I just smile and give my answer without flinching, "Because I just don't give a fuck."
> 
> Get ready for adorable aftercare next chapter, yo.

Jack's voice takes on this particular depth when he's turned on, it's far more soft and in his chest when he speaks, refined and he seems to try his very best to choose his words carefully in light of how his typical conversation goes. Isaac supposes, if anything, that can be attributed to his ability to focus absolutely on the subject at hand, and he expects that he'll act in the same manner when he's recording.

Coaxing a moan out of the younger man with his fingers buried deep inside of him, he chooses not to listen to the request, instead pointedly aiming his attention more towards his prostate, intending to teach him, as always, that he has no control. He can see the way that Isaac twists his body to try and shoot him some sort of pissy look, eyebrows knitted close together an his lips set into a thin line, suppressing a noise that would show how flustered he is.

His cheeks are starting to blossom with color, a dull glow of red that springs to the surface, tiny flecks of blood are welled there from the intensity of the spanking earlier, a minute detail that Jack promises to keep in his memories. He's on the tips of his toes due to his lack of significant height, but he soon enough chooses to shift himself so that he can rest the majority of his weight on the arm, feet hovered over the ground.

The length of bushy fur props the end of the dress up, sliding it down until it's at the base and Jack gets the full view of his backside with his panties tangled up around his thighs, pink hole stretched around his two fingers. He can't, and he's not even sure that he wants to, stop himself from letting up on his assault on Isaac's prostate in favor of brushing his other hand over where his tail meets his lower back. Arching into that touch, he chews at his lip nervously, feeling the appendage lightly swaying against his forearm, his own useless fingers curling up into the rope to find something to brace himself with.

He feels as though he's being tortured when Jack finally starts to pet him there, deliberately slow with each stroke, watching with an amused bout of laughter when his toes curl in the air at it, that animal in him just too fucking appreciative for his tastes. He's gone his whole life without having somebody treat him like this and it's borderline pathetic to think that he craves it now, just like the public told him he would, just another statistic, just another stereotype.

There is the nagging that he gives himself, drives himself fucking insane when he's laying there in a strange millionaire's bed, asks himself what the point is of fighting nature and fighting the truth, or even what the point of anything is. As far back as he can recall he's been told by his peers that he wasn't going to amount to anything at all, or at least, nothing close to the equivalent of someone belonging to the human race. He's not quite sure if they were right or wrong when he takes the time to think about it, but his brain is being overridden with a voice and the way that he knows exactly what to say to him to make him shut off the part of him that actually gives a shit about what people think.

"How could God have created something as beautiful as you?" Jack says it, and Isaac isn't entirely sure that he was meant to hear it in the first place, but he gives him the courtesy of not making him repeat it or anything, just lets that compliment sink into his sub conscience. In his chest is warmth that spreads to his limbs at a steady rate and everything feels good, so good that it defies any pre-conceived notions that he has about enjoying himself in such a hedonistic way. He doesn't feel guilty, either, it's strangely pure in such a sinful manner, the peace and affection that he feels vibrating off of Jack when he holds him down and brings him to climax, holds him just a little tightly as if he's frightened he might lose him. It's insane, the concept that he could actually be feeling these things for somebody that coerced him into agreeing to being essentially kidnapped, but it's there, hidden and buried and rearing its problematic head when Jack smiles the right way or when he whispers sweet poetry into his ear so generously.

It's one of those instant connections that defies what time wants to dictate. Even though Isaac is as nihilistic and god-less as they come he finds comfort in his words, listening attentively as he continues, "And you're all mine." and it rattles something loose in his core that causes a purr to rumble in his chest. He spreads his legs farther apart, his cock pressing down into the leather beneath him which contrasts between the silky flesh, it's meant as a surrender, an offering of sorts, when he does it without hesitation. There is the fear in the back of his mind that ponders what will happen when he actually does submit, when Jack knows that he's property and that he's given in, but he promises himself that he'll call him out on any and all bullshit if it ever arises.

There is a place where Isaac ends an Jack begins, he believes, they're individual people coming together under convenient circumstances, so it doesn't make sense that they'd lose themselves in the process. They aren't /together/ after all, which is somewhat of a relief if anything, though it does leave a bad taste in his mouth in regards to putting out for somebody without any true commitment.

"All yours," He mewls out, more like he's repeating it to himself, "Nobody else's." and that's a confirmation if he's ever heard one, and maybe it's the hormones and the fingers in his ass talking, and maybe it's just a little bit of that confidence that Jack emits from himself, but he's saying things that don't agree with non-horny Isaac's thinking process. Still, when he withdraws his fingers from inside of him and he feels that emptiness, he's very aware of how he expects to have it replaced with the width of his cock, even wiggles himself backwards just a bit to make himself more accessible.

It never comes, though, leaving him to sulk until he hears the older man drop to his knees behind him, which draws him from that negativity and invests him into something more curious and anxious. Gripping both of his ass cheeks with his hands, he spreads him apart and takes in the sight of his tight pink entrance which causes Isaac to still himself, unsure in what's going on in the first place. When he goes to actually ask his owner what he's doing it becomes crystal clear with a sudden swipe of his tongue over his hole, slick and it does the purpose of shutting his mouth before anything more than a sigh can escape. It's something that shouldn't be appealing, shouldn't make his stomach tighten into a knot that he can't get undone even with his teeth but he knows that he's reacting to it just the way that he wants.

Jack uses his teeth to bite at the fullness of his ass, gentle and loving at first but moving onto something more sadistic, rough enough that he's trying to leave behind his mark. Of course Isaac flinches against the assault but the older man is there to ensure that he doesn't get out of position, a controlling grip going to the knot that's keeping his arms behind his back, just holding him there in case of defiance. Jack's tongue feels cool in contrast to his heat that he's giving off and it runs shivers down his spine, his skin becoming textured when his body instinctively quivers. He can sit there all night with tongues and teeth and fingers that work in their own unique way as weapons against Isaac, breaking him down and building him into something new and improved if he wishes to do so, could even change his mind on the whole thing and do none of it in the end. Jack thinks that would be the most effective manner in which he could reduce him to a spineless pet, absolutely willing to do anything that would grant him attention and even something short of heavy petting in return for his efforts. That, he tells himself, is true power at its finest. 

"Hnnf-" It's something that's not decipherable, not meant to be really, but it's enough of a reaction that Jack knows to flatten his tongue out against his perineum and trail it back up to his hole, repeating the motion until he feels Isaac's thighs trembling, "I need you to fuck me, Jack, I need you inside of me." slips past the part of his brain that registers pride and its value. He sounds so urgent, like the world is going to shatter around them if he doesn't speed up the process, he's lucky that Jack finds it endearing, as if he's a spoiled brat of sorts. 

Rising up to his feet, the older man looks over his handiwork with a sense of accomplishment, from the swollen fullness of Isaac's lip to the wetness between his legs it's enough to make him question if it would be a sin not to document something so aesthetically pleasing. He shrugs off the jacket with ease and makes it a point to fold it neatly and place it with care on the back of the couch, as if he's making a statement about the difference in their classes, how he's more refined than the hybrid beneath him with rope digging into his wrists. Isaac does watch him while he undresses behind him out of the corner of his eyes with the limited amount of visibility that he has from that angle, but he does watch with an intensity that lets Jack know that he would shove him to the ground and ride him until they were both spent if he had his way. Still, that sort of hasty behavior would leave more to be desired and Jack prefers it this way, leading up to the moment instead of focusing on /just getting off/.

Long fingers go down the series of buttons on his shirt, top to bottom in order revealing inches of flesh as he goes along, pale and lean underneath. Isaac's hungry for him, wishes that he could taste his skin and draw out the pleasure in him until they're even, wants to make Jack be the one that's begging for him for once, but he knows that it'll never come to that, not with the amount of control that he has over him. The sound that the belt makes when Jack finally gets to that step breaks through the near-silence of the room and it makes the hybrid's body stand at attention, raised hips going up as if to make himself more appealing in the process, tail going still at a position high in the air and his ears perking up. Jack pulls himself out of his underwear, not wanting to go through the inconvenience of removing all of his clothing, his other hand going to the younger man's hip to steady him. 

"This what you want?" Jack asks, voice husky as he rubs the head of his cock lewdly over him, holding it at the base to prod at the tight entrance, testing it and perhaps just wanting to watch Isaac squirm a bit more. The way that Isaac arches his lower back to press his ass up against his cock along with the grunt of approval is enough to make him continue, milking out a breathy moan from him when he pushes himself past that ring of muscle and sinks himself into his heat without further interruption. Once he's got every inch of his cock into Isaac to the hilt he grabs a hold of the rope between his wrists and pulls him up by it slightly until he can take one hand and hook it around to clutch at his throat, "Does daddy's cock feel good inside of you, sweetheart?" He asks, smirking against the shell of his ear like he's the devil himself. He can hear a smile in his tone, the way that he mumbles to him and starts to grind himself against his ass, moving his length just the slightest bit inside of him, filling him up. 

"I know you won't be silent for long, I'll make sure of it." He settles on those words against his earlobe before he captures it between his teeth, his chest flush against Isaac's back while he starts to thrust, finding a certain rhythm that he can keep steady while he nips and kisses at the hybrid's exposed neck. He was right in the end when he can't hold back his groans any longer and he just decides to let them out after some time of swallowing them down like pills, rough and dry with a bitter taste that stays behind. It feels so much better when he lets go of that tension in his lungs and just cries out unrestrained and primal, going off of reactions that are genuine and giving Jack the feedback that he's expecting. 

It's a concern of Isaac's that he isn't going to get to cum, his cock hasn't so much as been looked at since Jack had been generous enough to use his mouth on him earlier in the night, but he isn't aware of Jack's intentions of making him reach orgasm simply by fucking him. With any other person he would have bet good money that they were full of shit if they would have claimed that they would be able to do it, but Jack isn't one to boast in the first place, and the element of surprise is a rather powerful one. 

A hand closes around his windpipe and the sounds of the world around him start to fade, his own vocal chords become strangers, foreign in such a way that it starts to not register that he's the one making all of the noise, unrestrained and loud enough that they'd get the police called if they were in any less of a secluded location. His eyes flutter shut and his jaw is slack and already the lining of his esophagus is raw and irritated from how Jack is forcing the reaction out of him, fucking him down and into the arm of the couch, his hips slapping against his ass while he pounds into him. A slew of swears could only be forgiven in that sort of situation but Jack has to admit that he's surprised that he's somehow reduced his vocabulary to the words he seems to use as filler during conversation, mindless curses that mask anger and gaps in thought. "God.." He huffs out a ragged breath, "Feels so fuckin' good" and Jack keeps at his pace, hammering himself into Isaac and aiming himself at his prostate on purpose, a mixture of both of their moans come together and it's something Jack prays he won't forget in the near future. It's too beautiful not to remember. 

His fingers loosen around Isaac's throat enough that the blood rushes to his brain once more and he feels high off of it, unable to hold himself up very well any longer as Jack just uses his body, fucking him like a rag doll and keeping him propped up so that he can /use him/. Flesh on flesh and all that the hybrid can do is keep himself focused on the here and now, the hand that migrates to hold his chin too tightly and his cock hitting parts of his insides that are too sensitive, places where he never knew existed and could never find without Jack's expert touch. Everything fades until it hits this glorious splash of black and white that has him panting and slick with sweat, eyes half-lidded when it comes to his mind that Jack made him go over that edge without any effort at all and that he's still fucking into his limp body, coming to a slowed down rut when he finally starts to spill his seed into him. 

He's shaking, all pathetic and shameful, or so he believes, gulping in oxygen with lungs that feel deprived and a head that's swimming, everything is all fucked around him and he's not sure how to react to any of it. There is an intense amount of guilt for what he's done, his surrender and his self-claimed worthlessness, the way that he found the words to ask this man to pump him full of cum like it's fucking prom night. In the middle of his racing thoughts he feels fingers undoing the ropes around his wrists and he's pulled into a position so that Jack can wrap his arms around Isaac's shoulders, protective and shielding from his negativity. It does occur to him when Jack combs fingers through his hair and shushes him gently that he could be enjoying his afterglow and perhaps getting himself dressed once more, but he chooses to bring him back from a cruel and unforgiving place of his mind instead. 

It's always there, waiting for a moment of weakness to draw him back into it, that part of his mind that he wants to lobotomize and cut his losses for the greater good. He's just not sure why the older man was capable of seeing straight through him when he gave it a visit, but he figures that perhaps they're not as different as he had once believed. 

 


	8. Oh Noose Tied Myself In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, listeners, it's time for some more bullshit hot off the press. I want to apologize for the fandom but it can't be helped, to be honest. As always, posting this chapter in half because I hate having to just sit on a draft for such a long time while I chip away at it.

The steady thrumming in his veins dies down until it's something of a metronome, what nature had intended when it finds its own comfortable pace and sticks to its guns instead of fluttering and skipping beats each time that Isaac sucks in a breath of Jack's cologne and the chill of the air that carries it. There is the sense of disappointment in himself, seated here, feeling so small being enveloped in the strong arms of a man that he hardly knows -- A position in which even someone as close to him as Jeremiah wouldn't have the opportunity to witness, not even in the nadir of his substances and depression. And still, in spite of the evidence that states that it's wildly against his character to allow it, he doesn't move a muscle or protest, he just sits there. He sits there and he thinks to himself about how he doesn't know if he can trust his brain anymore, if he even knows himself as much as he once thought, and how the universe is an infinitely changing series of events that justify this epiphany. He's seventeen years old, opinionated and not afraid to blurt out said opinions into the open air as if it's not enough to get him skinned alive, but it had never crossed his mind that he's not going to stay the same forever, static and stoic for the remainder of his days. Then, he asks himself, what is there to trust, even within myself?

Isaac can feel Jack combing his fingers through his hair, keeps that kindness in the deepest part of his aorta that has the capacity for emotion in such a blanked out state, holds onto it for what it's worth and hopes that it comes in handy later on. He's got his face buried in the crook of Jack's neck, resting his head on his shoulder and just breathing against him, not having the ability to have words to say to him in the instant, but he gets the hint that it's not a requirement and it doesn't seem to be expected, either. They're in this awkward position which is obviously a result of improvisation, Isaac's twisted around to be seated on the arm of the couch and Jack has him held to his chest, the ropes digging into the flesh of his wrists, imprinting their braids into him each second that they're allowed to remain there. The older man allows for him to keep resting against his shoulder while he undoes the knots without much assistance from his eyes, going off of how the binds feel and taking his time in delicately untying him, relieved when the ropes start to loosen with minimal effort. Hybrids are soft in nature, something domesticated and not entirely capable of fending for themselves, but he can tell just by looking at Isaac that he's had to be strong for far too long, fighting his instincts and just fighting everything in general. He sincerely doesn't think the kid's ever asked for anything in his life. 

Jack can relate to that, but he doesn't want to break the silence that they've got going for them, it's a pleasant rarity that doesn't come along often. He's at the point in his life where everything is an uphill battle, a fight that he throws himself into with all of his weight, doing things just to do them and testing the waters of what he wants to be when he truly reaches maturity. Jack doesn't actually know the ugly parts of Isaac, the dark recesses of his mind that come out to play when he's had too much to drink or when he's having a night where the first thing he wants to do is get punched in the face because he thinks he deserves it. It's like observing nature, there is an amount of respect there even provided the fact that Isaac looks like something out of a Japanese cartoon with the outfit, but he still holds him close as he processes what's going on. He can feel him shaking still, but it isn't as prominent as before when he could hardly hold himself up, knees buckling beneath him and threatening to send him to the ground if Jack hadn't been there to help hoist him up into a seated position. 

"You did really good for your first punishment," Jack does linger over that words in his mind because of the fact that it isn't exactly a full-fledged one, but it'll suffice for such a minor bout of disobedience that didn't truly cause any harm, the more severe disciplining will be for when Isaac actually tests him or goes out of bounds on purpose, "I'm proud of you." he tucks a lock of hair behind Isaac's ear after his words are finished. It had never been something that gave him any sense of accomplishment, being told that somebody was proud of him, even if they were of significance, because there are standards that he sets for himself and doesn't allow for them to be changed based on another person's views. He doesn't settle, never has and never will, but as childish as it might seem, he does sucker into it and purr lightly in the depth of his throat, fingers working their way through his chestnut hair. 

Rough callouses do toy with the fluff at the base of his ears and cause them to twitch but it's an automatic response and something he's getting used to, whereas it once was something that would make him extremely uncomfortable and want to sock somebody in the jaw. Placing an arm underneath the backs of his knees and the other across his shoulder blades, he allows for Isaac to drape his own arms around his neck so that he can keep a good balance while he carries him. He's surprised by how light he is and how he's able to lift him without much effort at all, but not nearly as taken back he is by the way that he doesn't get any sort of protest from Isaac and instead feels him complying calmly and resting his forehead against him. 

"'s 'at so?" He cuts off parts of the words because of his way of speaking but Jack can understand him fully, can feel a lop-sided grin of the younger man's against the side of his throat where he's at, "That mean I'm gonna get a treat?" it's almost as if the kid is drunk off of his orgasm with the way that he tiredly chuckles into his skin while he walks him towards his personal bedroom. He's not sure how to reply to him because, no, he hadn't had the foresight to buy Isaac treats or anything of the like, but he does kick himself for it, not able to decipher if he's joking or not. 

So, instead of ignoring it, he chooses to bite and take the bait, "Treats, huh? What kind of reward were you expecting for taking your punishment for acting up in the first place?" He snarks, but he has the tendency to spoil everyone around him, and he doubts that Isaac will be an exception. He's not very good at the word 'no' when it comes to material things. 

Isaac jerks his head back and looks at Jack like he's just said something horribly wrong, "Wasn't talkin' about the punishment, I was talkin' about how I took your dick like a champ back there. Totally just took one for the team and didn't get so much as a "gee, thanks, Isaac for letting me get some of that ass" or nothin'." he waves his hand in the general direction of the statement that he had made as if to push away smoke, dismissing the idea entirely although Jack's still latched onto it like a barnacle on a ship, but he'd never let that on. He's already planning things and making up dates in his mind for when he can repay Isaac for his cooperation and the lack of overall accusations being pointed his way on account of the deal that they've struck, even when he knows damn well that other artists would slit someone's throat to get an opportunity such as his, just the record deal alone. 

Maybe it stems from growing up in a household where appreciation and praise were not readily available, perhaps a product of his parents splitting up, but Jack can tell that it's something that the hybrid needs dearly, needs to be nurtured and taken care of instead of just allowed to live like he has been for so long. The older man carefully toes open his bedroom door and carries Isaac through the frame, being sure not to allow for his head to hit against the wood as he does it, pausing ever so slightly so that he can kick it closed once more behind them. It latches on the first attempt and Jack breathes a sigh of relief at that, not willing to accept any more set-backs in their night, especially with something so delicate and personal as aftercare. 

There is an urge that Jack can't bring himself to suppress, and that is to kiss at the corner of the cross-breed's mouth even when his arms are starting to register the minimal weight that Isaac has to him and he isn't sure that he should spare the time, but he does, and even as stoic as he is he closes his eyes and just savors the velveteen texture of his lips. It feels like the first one he ever had, as cheesy as that sounds even to his lyricist mind, but it brings back that fluttering in his stomach like butterflies that he can't digest or cope with, his palms growing sweaty and his nerves tingling, it's like the first time. Jack pulls himself away after an extended period of his lips just remaining on Isaac's, "I'll make sure to make it worth your while." is all that he can offer, he's tired just as much as he knows the younger man is, but the main reasoning behind how clipped and brief his end of the dialogue is because of how he knows talk is cheap and that actions speak louder than words. He knows that there is no reason for Isaac to believe that he's going to get treated well and he's sure as hell not going to believe him when he says things like that without any evidence much other than a refrigerator full of food and a roof over his head.

He purrs, unrestrained now, and he nuzzles up into Jack's neck as if he's a pet, there isn't much to be reserved in terms of dignity any longer, and nature is telling him that, yes, this is his master, and yes, he should totally rub his head against him as a sign of affection that doesn't make any god damn sense to the human inside of him. Isaac isn't prepared to ignore the way that the older man hums deeply in his throat, a sound of pleasure masked by a hint of sing-song as if he's trying to hide the fact that he's restraining himself, he's trying to go easy on him and he's making it a chore for him to deny himself a round two. There's the sound of water hitting the bottom of the bath tub once they've entered the bathroom and Jack sets him down steadily onto the tiles, holding him as if he's prepared to catch him if he's still a little bit wobbly and unbalanced, his hands still resting on the taller man's shoulders but only as if to keep him in close proximity. 

He's in unfamiliar territory it would seem and he's just now taking in the details of the area -- A tub that's carved out of white stone like marble, with steps that match leading up to it, the rest of the decor is just as impressive with lighting fixtures and appliances that look like they'd cost more than his life. It would be a lie if Isaac said that he wasn't taken back by it, and he does feel a mild tinge of shame at how Jack's being well off manages to make him even more attractive than he admittedly is. It makes him feel secure as well, something that he can't recall ever having the luxury of experiencing before, and he now starts to realize that he must work to keep his position at Jack's feet because if he were to act poorly enough he bets that he wouldn't feel too badly about leaving him out in the cold. Subtle fear rides up in him at the notion that his pride might get in the way of his future. Not so old habits that won't die are sure to show up sooner rather than later and he reckons that Jack won't be nearly as accepting as his band mates, the ones that encourage him to down a fifth of vodka and smoke methamphetamine in the back of a van so he can make it to the next state. 

Swelling has started to show itself underneath his pale skin where the ropes had restricted blood flow prior and Isaac steps out of Jack's way so that he can work on the bath, watches him curiously when he opens up canisters of salts and pours some generously into the flowing water, coloring it and scenting it as it dissolves. A subtle presence of mint is hinted with floral undertones and normally the hybrid would be off-put by something so indulgent and ritzy, something that housewives would buy at one of those dreaded malls which are designed to pedal bullshit and rake in cash, but he doesn't want to decline the nice gesture, and he feels exhausted and the concept of a relaxing bath is all too tempting for his worn out bones. 

"I don't mean for you to take this the wrong way but," And there's an awkward beat there as Jack starts to roll up the sleeves of his button down and he looks him over with a poorly-hidden glaze of concern, "You're.. Cool with water, right?" He asks and Isaac can't really do much but blink at that before he laughs, gives his new owner a playful nudge on the shoulder and shakes his head in disbelief. 

"Wouldn't let ya get me this far if I wasn't. At least I got lucky with that one." At least he isn't one of the hybrids that has an intense case of hydrophobia and can't even take care of themselves, Isaac is grateful for that, seeing far too many of his kind in poor condition because they were unable to overcome their instincts and had to succumb to their species dictating their position in life. He could have been out on the streets being chased by Animal Control until the date of his death like that rest of the ones that dared to try and rough it out there on their own but he was smart enough to go stealth with his identity and take up something more promising, he chose to live instead of scraping by. Being human meant having to override everything he had been brought up with, it meant having to rid himself of the urges -- To shy away from water, to toy with things, just the very /existence/ of catnip. 

 

Jack is relieved that he doesn't have to fight him every step of the way to wash himself, because he knows that the kid is limber but he doesn't expect that he'd be able to clean himself in the same manner that a full-fledged feline would be able to -- Or at least he doesn't hope that he would. Turning himself so that he's facing away from the older man, he voicelessly asks him to pull down the zipper at the back so that he can slip out of his clothing, looking over his shoulder with an expression of anticipation and perhaps impatience towards Jack. He complies but he's in no rush at all when the creamy color of his skin starts to be exposed when the silver closures start to separate, hungry eyes taking in every inch of it and savoring the intimacy, the closeness of it. No one had accused him of being one to bend to the concept of chastity so he doesn't feel the need to uphold any morals when his lips are gliding along the lightly protruding shoulder blades and he's concerned if he's ready for something like this, ready for something as insatiable as he is. He feels Isaac's skin become textured as he mouths at him, going up to kiss at the back of his neck as if it's a closing sentence of a letter, he knows that he has to find the willpower to pull away. It's difficult but he manages it, stepping back and just watching when the cross-breed shrugs the material off of his shoulders and lets it fall to the tiles below in a mass of pastel and bows, those green eyes still bearing down on him with an intensity that shouldn't be there so soon after he's been fucked speechless. 

"Are you trying to seduce me, Isaac?" He asks, his tone is firm and stern but his eyebrows are raised with amusement at it and he's not so sure that he's not going to get pounced on by the way that he's being stared at. 

As if Jack just shoved away some sort of kind gesture, Isaac sets his lips into a line that he quickly covers up with a smile and he shakes his head, bending down to push the panties down along his thighs and step out of them in one fluid motion, "Ah course not, daddy." He says. Fuck, Jack thinks to himself, he's learning, he's evolving and he's adapting. He's learned my weakness and he's going to use it against me. Still, even when his blood goes ice cold in his veins and he thinks that his heart has stopped beating all together, he swallows the tension in his throat and pulls his eyes as quickly as he can from the curvature of his ass, because if he doesn't he knows that he's going to bend him over. With how much of a tease he's being he doesn't necessarily rule out the possibility of second spanking in that case. 

He reaches a hand out for Isaac who takes it within a few seconds of thinking it over, unsure of his intentions. So, being a gentleman, Jack feels the need to explain, "I don't want you to slip and fall on your way in." and he gives him this look of 'you need to relax for once in your damn life' and a tiny smile that accompanies it hints towards amusement at that, the way that he always is questioning and being paranoid about the next step. As always, he is aware of the odd circumstances that they'd met, so he does grant him a bit of leeway in terms of trusting him, but he knows that he'll come around once things start to benefit him a lot more drastically. Jack needs for Isaac to bust his face open on the side of his bathtub as much as he needs another divorce. Raising his legs one at a time to pull the socks off by the toes, he tosses them into the pile and just senses that Jack's holding himself back but he doesn't let that make it awkward, letting the older man lead him into the tub. If he wants to pump the brakes he'll let him, but that doesn't mean that he isn't going to be a little shit and make it hard for him. 

The hybrid puts one of his feet into the water to test the temperature, because he's starting to register that Jack has a sadistic streak to him that wouldn't put him above running a cold bath and making him sit in it for an extended period of time, and Isaac isn't down for that. When he figures out that it isn't some sort of trick he does tack on a couple of brownie points on Jack's record simply because it isn't an act of trickery disguised as something nice, but it's actually genuine. They're building up trust and breaking down barriers and he's not too sure how to feel about somebody trying to win him over. He steps fully inside of the running water and seats himself close to the edge so that there isn't an exorbitant amount of distance separating them but that extra effort seems to go to waste when he sees the older man begin to undress as well, meticulously folding and setting each article aside on the countertop, even gathering up Isaac's belongings and placing them aside his own.

It's a bit of a relief to sink himself into the warmth of the bath, calming his tense and stressed muscles when he relaxes against the edge of the tub and motions Isaac over with a minimalist gesture. Isaac sloshes a bit of water as he moves to join him, boldly choosing to take a seat in his lap and resting his face into the crook of his neck, mumbling something to himself when Jack begins to run his hand over his back gently, soothing him. It's perfect, in that moment.


	9. I'm Red All Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is actually one of the first chapters that I wanted to write, but I felt the need to establish it first. Here we have Kitty!Isaac in full-blown heat and Jack is an asshole who likes to fuck with him. A lot of research went into this chapter so you'd better strap the fuck in. Jack is going to be rather busy for the next week trying to tend to him.

It isn't uncommon for Jack to invite people over for dinner when he's feeling social and more often than not it's a large number of them to ensure that there is always a fair amount of conversation to be had instead of dead air. Isaac had been introduced to a majority of them prior to the event and it wasn't as if Jack had hidden any of his intentions or activities that had happened with him in the past, so he isn't nervous about judgment being a factor of the night. If any of them didn't like the way that he dressed Isaac or made him act, they were free to leave, but it wasn't his problem in that case, as he saw it. 

They're in the middle of their meal when a guest at the end of the table jumps in his seat and he looks absolutely horrified and confused at the same time, leaning to the side to have a glance under the table. At first Jack doesn't have the slightest clue what could be happening until he hears a yowl from below and manages to get a peek of Isaac rubbing up against the man's legs in an unrestrained manner, from the angle he can tell that he isn't wearing underwear. It makes his face go hot and he clears his throat to try and catch the hybrid's attention before he does anything too outlandish but he gets the nerve to slide his hands along his thighs and he just knows that he has to physically stop him despite his subtle warning. Pushing back and standing up out of his chair, Jack moves over to where Isaac is and crouches down between the two guests so that he can grab him by the collar and drag him out by force, ignoring the way that he tries to get aggressive with him and growls with a warning tone. 

He marches him off towards his personal bedroom and once they're at the door he shoves him inside hastily, closing it behind the both of them, and he's expecting to be cursed out or swung at, but he doesn't do anything to show animosity. Instead, he lowers down onto his knees and eventually onto all fours, facing away from Jack in a way that he can see the entirety of his round ass and his light pink hole. He isn't sure how to respond to it at all, watching for a strange amount of time as Isaac presses his chest to the ground and he spreads his legs, meowing and being far more vocal than he's used to. There's no way that something isn't off about him, he's never acted this way. 

"Isaac, I don't have time for this." He insists but there's tension in his throat and he's getting hard, his body thinks there's plenty of time for it. He reaches behind himself and he runs his middle finger over the slick entrance, already lubricated somehow that Jack can't explain, and he pushes into the tight ring of muscle easily, vacant eyes are focused on him. Humming gently under his breath, the younger man seems to be trying to keep his noises to a minimum, but his body doesn't want to comply with his mind and he's mewing every so often, pushing into his knuckle. His tail is pressed up against the small of his back, swishing subtly but not enough to obscure the view, and he's surprised that the normally mouthy hybrid hasn't even said a word yet, he's reverted into something completely animal. 

It's temptation at its finest and he finds himself questioning if he does, in fact, have enough time on his hands to deal with this, but he's mainly concerned over why his behavior has changed so drastically overnight. 

He tries to be professional about it, clinical even, taking on the role of a doctor of sorts before they can make it to some sort of vet that can tell him what the hell is wrong with him, but he figures it's just as good a place start as any by asking him. Crouching down by Isaac's side, he places a hand on his head, petting lightly over the fluff of his ears and down to the nape of his neck in a fluid motion. He can practically feel the heat radiating off of him, the soft puffs of breath that come out of him that are laced with moans when he nudges his head into his touch, his whole body seeming to move into it. 

His voice wavers subtly but he gets out "What's going on with you, Isaac?" and that's about all that he manages. 

Isaac pounces forward onto Jack and it doesn't take much to knock him over so that he's awkwardly seated with his weight propped up on his elbows, balance leaving him with the weight of the young man being placed on him so suddenly. He purrs low in his throat and attacks his mouth roughly, not giving Jack hardly a beat to breathe on, hands working his clothing off of him piece by piece. Somewhere along the line he loses his patience and the older man's eyebrows come together in frustration when the buttons of his vest give underneath Isaac's tugging, scattering over the floor to places he will not be able to trace, but fuck, it's hot. 

The cross-breed's eyes look black in this lighting but he's not so sure it's an illusion when he presses down on his chest forcefully until his back is flat against the hard wood, he feels powerless against him and it's not something that he's used to. His legs are placed on either side of his hips and he grinds down into him, undoing all of the buttons of his shirt with a similar jerking motion and Jack doesn't have enough will-power to pause their activities to scold him, after all the cool air against his warm skin is refreshing. He shrugs off the material and holds onto his hips, thumbs pressing into the bones there and guiding him through his fluid motions when he ruts, sliding around to the curvature of his ass. 

Isaac rubs against his cock through his pants and Jack takes that as a sign and pushes the younger man back only slightly so that he can undo his pants and push them down enough to expose himself. Once they're at mid-thigh it only takes a few seconds before the hybrid shuffles forward and starts to sit on his cock, the way that he opens up for him almost immediately has him holding onto Isaac roughly enough that bruises might spring there, the tightness still intact. It defies all logic with what he knows about how his pet is and how he acts, his body and the nature surrounding it, even with how alarming it is, he starts to thrust up into Isaac as much as he can manage. 

He takes that as a signal and places both of his hands on the sides of Jack's head and leans himself forward, just letting him thrust into him like that, fucking up into him and just watching his face as it contorts with pleasure, how his teeth dig into his lip to suppress an all-too-animal growl. He's doing a piss poor job of keeping quiet for the sake of their guests down stairs, the ones that Jack had left to their own devices while he stormed away from the table, that idea is gone from his conscience, though.


	10. We Ran It Good

He's taking all of him to the base and he doesn't show even the slightest reaction that would indicate that he's in pain, looking like he's been snorting a large inheritance worth of various substances for a whole week. 

An idea goes off in his mind like a shockwave from an atomic bomb and he sits upright, firm grip finding a spot on his throat to dig into, underneath his jaw in a controlling vice. It occurs to him that Isaac might be breaking the rules that he's set out for him, and disobedience isn't something that he's willing to take lightly. It never crosses his mind that this is the unfiltered animal showing itself for the first time. His teeth grit together and he isn't even aware of it, pulling him in close so that there is only an inch or so between them, "You're high again," he growls low in his throat, "You can't even keep it together for a weekend."

But he doesn't stop himself at all, gasping for air between his fingers as he rides him still, working harder now that Jack's sitting up and there isn't much room for friction between their bodies. The hybrid gives off a warning sound, primal, and he isn't afraid at all, but he's never been one to back down from a challenge, meeting his eyes and tightening his grip to make it more difficult for him to catch a breath. Jack pushes backwards and if Isaac weren't so gone, he would complain when his back suddenly comes into contact with the floor and his shoulder blades ache, but he just wraps his legs around his waist, sharp nails raking over his biceps. And perhaps Jack is even finding himself having a sense of endearment when he suspects him of sneaking drugs into his home, doing them and not knowing the way that it would make him crave his touch, light a flame inside of his belly. He's sort of like his own marvelous disaster, one that he can call his own. 

It looks as though it's physically paining him to say anything, but Isaac grits his teeth together and he can see the sharps of his canines, attributes to his partially feline genetics, "Shut up.." He tips his head back and a soundless moan forms his lips before he catches himself, "..'s natural." 

His pupils are far too blown, leaving behind only a vague remnant of the ring of dark green surrounding it, eyelids closing when he arches himself off of the ground, writhes beneath Jack when he hits that spot inside of him that makes his body flash red hot. There are red fingerprints underneath Isaac's jaw from the pressure, blood rushing to the surface when he had cut off the oxygen flow to his brain just enough to make him dizzy, they'll fade but Jack wishes that they wouldn't. He loves to mark him, especially where others can see, know that he's touched him in unimaginable ways, made him cry out unspeakable words. He loves it. 

He's still inside of him, feeling that tight heat that's clenching around him, but he hasn't even moved himself, just allowing himself to witness the way that his pet squirms with minimal effort. The older man hooks both of his legs over his shoulders and thumbs dig into the protrusions of his hips, wrapping around into a firm hold that he can control him by, pinning him right beneath him as if he would want to escape. Isaac's tail runs along the insides of his legs, thick fur gliding over his skin and it almost doesn't fit with what the rest of his body is doing when he's got all of his length buried inside of him. 

He feels a bead of sweat run down the side of his face after a few moment of thrusting into Isaac and he prays that he won't look too disheveled by the time he returns to the table, /if/ he returns at all. The hybrid is trying very poorly to mask his noises, choke them back or stifle them by laying his arm over his face but he's having a difficult time because Jack has his knees shoved back towards his chest and he's hitting his prostate with every damn movement. It's too good for him not to announce it to everyone in the house. 

He's just fucking taking it and Jack isn't so sure how much longer he can last, trying his hardest to get as deep inside of him as he can manage, fill him up and watch him as he reacts to being handled so roughly. Jack maintains eye contact, that intensity that comes along with him isn't lost at all and he notes the way that his personality seems to return, not just something mindless and powerless to the whims of his own body. 

It's very faint, but from the inside of his arm he can hear the muffled voice of his, a subtle whine added to it when he murmurs "daddy" into it, the nails of his free hand scratch along the ground as he does it. Isaac lifts his forearm so that it's laid above his head, a steady and soft series of pants leaving his lungs, those emerald eyes locked onto his as he cracks the most subtle of grins. He knows what gets him off, he's as observant as they come and he's not so secretive about what he's into in the first place, so he can't help but assume that the younger man is trying to bring him to the edge just to see if he can influence him. Isaac reaches down between his thighs and runs his fingers along the space below his naval and it isn't until he raises it to his lips that Jack sees the pearly fluid coating them as he shoves them into his mouth. 

Jack looks down and sees that Isaac's shot all over his stomach when he was too busy to notice, and it's enough indication that he's had more than one orgasm that it makes him very aware of his own starting to creep up on him abruptly. He repeats it, that little lisp and it's just too much, he wants to slap that grin off of his face because of how smug he is, how cocky he is with the knowledge of how to make him melt. His eyes close tightly and he thrusts into Isaac a few more times and it's all that he can manage before he's filling him up with his seed, his movements aren't as steady and they're more motivated by pure uninhibited pleasure than calculations. 

"You little.. Filthy.. Whore." He ruts his hips against Isaac's ass a few more times, working himself through the intense sensations and he can't even bring himself to meet his gaze because of how little resistance he put up towards his pet acting out. He gave him exactly what he wanted. He's rewarded his bad behavior. Breathing out a heavy sigh, he pulls himself out of the hybrid and begins to tuck himself away, he looks disgusted with himself because he is, it shouldn't be that easy to tempt him. 

Jack gives Isaac a stern look as he raises up to his feet and runs his fingers through his hair to hopefully fix it in the least, "Do you mind telling me what the hell all of this was?" Now that the cross-breed has found a way to effectively ruin his dinner party he doubts that it'll make much of a difference how swiftly he returns. They're probably already thinking of excuses to leave on account of the strange noises coming from upstairs. Shaking his head with a mild amount of disappointment, he watches as Isaac sits up and fixes his outfit with a sort of sass to it that comes off as distasteful to Jack, "So what illegal shit did you sneak into my house this time, hm?"

He's facing away from the feline, sifting through the small amount of clothes that he's left in Isaac's closet through the transition, not fully moving his personal belonging out of there quite yet. He glances over his shoulder and nearly jumps out of his skin when the young man is far closer than he anticipated, right at his heels. It's blatantly obvious that he isn't satisfied in the least when he nuzzles against the side of his leg, following through with the rest of his body. When the hybrid stretches himself out, tail held high and his legs open in an overtly sexual manner, it creates a tension in his throat that he can't swallow. He's slick from his own cum leaking out of him, remnants of the fluid running down his thighs and he doesn't seem to have a clue that they've done this all before, that he's already spent and that he can't help him. 

When the older man merely stares on in disbelief, Isaac whines softly, "Daddy.." He draws it out, swaying his hips from side to side to try and convince him. Instead of some type of anger, he feels worry wash over him in waves and his first instinct is to try and find somebody to call, a medical professional to see if he's overdosing or if he didn't know what he was getting himself into. 

Shaking his head to bring himself from his thoughts, he takes a step backwards away from Isaac and goes for the door, making sure to keep a brisk pace about him to ensure that he isn't followed out of the room when he leaves. He crawls after him, but he doesn't make an attempt to catch him, he seems to have this sort of acceptance in his eyes that shows that he understands why he's leaving, and there might just be a hint of fear there as well. He looks almost pained when he looks up to him from his position on the floor, little noises coming out of him that he doesn't have a power switch on, but he doesn't yell or panic to try and keep up and for that Jack is grateful. It makes closing the door behind him an easy task, even though he can feel his chest grow tight with the fear of the unknown, he closes it and takes the time to make sure that he's locked it correctly. The last thing that he needs is for him to be out in the open when he isn't exactly sure what he's capable of, or what his urges will urge him to do next. 

When he moves away down the hall he can hear the faintest remnants of Isaac's voice, calling out for him even if it isn't intentional, but he feels the need to return to his side, to care for him and help him ride out whatever it is that he's got himself into. But he doesn't, because there is a time and a place for everything, and dealing with his more-than-likely drugged out cross-breed of a sex slave is not at the top of his list at the moment. He's also got the hunch that it isn't even him speaking, but what ails him. 

It's difficult for him to try to think logically in these situations when it calls for emotions to be cast aside, but he finds himself already giving curt dismissals that are clipped and impersonal to his friends, finding them to be an afterthought. Websites give him lists of numbers that he can call, a majority of them have the normal hours that he isn't looking for -- It's ten o'clock at night. Once he finds the correct vet that specializes in Isaac's species and is available at odd hours (for a large fee) he calls him up and schedules an appointment, but he's not quite sure how to voice his inability to actually /get/ him to the appointment. He's not sure that Isaac will be so willing, and he's not sure if he'd be able to drive them if he's being subjected to so many distractions. 

Once he rattles off the symptoms that Isaac's showing it doesn't take much convincing before the man's offering to drive to his address. 

;;;

He's in heat. It's the only thing that he can think about even when the vet is giving him directions on how to give him his medication, jotting down a prescription and going over vital details, and it's all he can think about. Scowling just a bit at the concept of it all, he rubs at the bridge of his nose, a heavy exhale to calm his nerves and he knows that there is no purpose is getting worked up over it. 

"These hormonal suppressants will make the side effects much less noticable, but it won't be capable of getting rid of them completely. He's still going to be acting strangely, but his cycle will end by next week, so you have that to look forward to. Unfortunately, it's going to keep happening every few months unless you elect to schedule him for surgery." 

Jack brushes it off almost immediately, the thought of having Isaac go through such a procedure, and him writing off on it no less, is enough to make him sick. Slinking around both of their ankles is the man in question, rubbing himself against the doctor's leg to try and win over his attention but it's all in vain, it might not be apparent to anybody else, but he can see the glint of humiliation in his expression. He doesn't want to be like this, he's not enjoying himself and Jack makes a note to remind himself to get the medication as quickly as he can once it's just the two of them. 

"Fuck me.." The hybrid murmurs, his ears are perked up and there is a gap between the vet's sentences when he picks up on what he said, but he tries his best to act professionally, clearing his throat and carrying on. He's free to do as he pleases with his pet, that's not something that Jack is concerned for, but rather the way that Isaac refused to wear any type of clothing after he had his initial episode. He can see the way that the doctor's eyes wander and how he does look over his body, but he knows that he could lay him out with a single punch if he even took the chance to try and touch him. 

He doubts that the man has never seen one of his kind like this, they're often found in less-than-dignified positions with owners that abuse them, so surely that isn't the case. Once he's grown weary of pining over their new acquaintance's affections, Isaac crawls over towards where he's standing and doesn't do much other than whine and take a seat at his heels, purring in an unrestrained and boisterous fashion when he reaches down to scratch him behind his ears. It actually pulls a smirk from him because of how playful it is, how he's abandoning that part of him that's so human and so pessimistic and anxious all the time, and he's just an animal. 

"It'll be alright." He says and it's underneath his breath to where not even he can hear it, but he guides the doctor from his home with the standard pleasantries, paying him in a fold of bills that he doesn't bother to count. He knows that it shouldn't feel like there is such gravity on his chest, but he knows that Isaac is in pain, at least psychologically, and it isn't going to end until he mutilates his body. That just isn't an option. 

;;

Thunder crackles through the house with a low boom, it shakes the windows and it rattles the walls, and even with how resilient Jack is towards being woken up it still jolts him into a start, eyes searching through the darkness for the source. He sits up in his bed and takes in his surroundings, slowly and with care to take it all to memory, but a rapping of knuckles against his door breaks through the pitter-patter of rain outside. 

His voice is groggy when he calls out, "Come in." and he tries his best not to act as though he was sound asleep, or that he had been frightened by the storm himself. He's over twice Isaac's age and the last thing that he needs is for himself to be ridiculed over something so silly. When he swings the door open with a carefulness that is uncharacteristic of himself and just stands there, he can tell by his silhouette that he isn't clothed (once again) despite being told to at least try to tolerate the things that he sets out for him. It was agreed that he would wear the proper attire in the contract that he had drafted, but he's been complaining of how it feels on his skin, that he gets too hot in them. 

"I can't sleep." The hybrid tells him, getting straight to the point, and Jack reaches to switch on his bed-side lamp to get a better view of him. Of course, as he had expected, he's hard, fists clenched at his sides, likely out of frustration. The pills aren't working as well as they're intended to, it's making it to where he can't function and Jack's been counting the days, watching him as the symptoms slowly are dropping off of the checklist. They still have to have moments like this, though. Jack's honnestly just grateful that Isaac's found more civilized ways of dealing with these hormonal changes in contrast to jumping on him or trying to take his clothes off in public, a situation that he had to deal with far more times than he could count. 

"That's alright," He says, and he is being honest, it's more than alright, "I'll take care of you." since he is being honest, the truth would be that he's more than pleased to see that Isaac has made the choice to give him a visit rather than try to fix the issue himself, which they both know will not settle anything. He crosses the floor with a few awkward steps and he stands even more awkwardly at the side of his bed, eyes averted from Jack in any way that he can manage, hands still tensed up at his hips. 

Upon closer examination there is a light sheen of sweat over the young man's flesh, it makes him question whether or not he had tried to relieve himself before ultimately giving up and resorting to asking for help. With the level of stubborness that comes along with the territory, it's not that far of a stretch for his imagination. Under normal circumstances, Jack would be offended by the idea of it, it had been outlined in their contract very specifically, but he literally cannot help himself in the least, it's as natural as breathing at this point. He's a bit surprised that he isn't exhibiting more signs of his heat than was stated by the doctor, who had stressed clearly that it should be a concern of his that Isaac would try to leave home in search of other people to sleep around with. 

It hardly takes any time at all before he's got him quaking underneath his grip, letting him ride in his lap while his hand twists and massages at his cock between his legs until he shoots, kissing into the side of his face when Isaac collapses with exhaustion. He lets him sleep like that for a while, on his chest with his face buried into his neck, hair clinging to his forehead and his skin is noticably warm to the touch. They'll get a couple of hours of sleep out of this before he wakes, unaware that they've been going through this process all night. 

It's enough to almost make him physically ill when he realizes that he's playing around with Isaac's hair and that he's suddenly in love, a sticky sweet type of confection that he never quite cared for, there's something to lose in love and he's lost the battle more times than not. He's too afraid to fall asleep again.

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy whatever the fuck this is.


End file.
